


there is magic (when two people fall in love)

by jongdaesang (d10smessi)



Series: the one with the babies and magic [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Magic, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-19 15:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d10smessi/pseuds/jongdaesang
Summary: Jongin makes a deal with Kyungsoo to save his dying father. Kyungsoo agrees in exchange for Jongin’s first born child.(Alternatively, Jongin may or may not recommend having feelings for witches who ask for other people’s children.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> lol this is supposed to be historical au and not modern magic but i wrote this for fun and cos i'm bored and i hate writing historical aus cos i get really antsy about the details so...
> 
>  
> 
> BASED on this [TUMBLR PROMPT](http://bluefall-returns.tumblr.com/post/143368041427/hedaoftheworld-ok-so-its-the-classic-story-of-a) (very spoiler-y, tho i'm sure y'all know how this will go)
> 
>  
> 
> UNBETA-ed.

 

 

 

 

There’s always something brewing beneath the surface of the universe—like an omnipresent trace, a darkness that holds the answer to every question. Jongin’s father has always told him not to play with fire and the shadow it always creates. He’s always been a smart boy, too, heeding his words in his heart. 

 

But Jongin’s father is dying and he’s not here right now.

 

“Dude, are you sure about this?” Sehun asks. His feet are propped on the dashboard and Jongin wants to go off on his best friend for that, for everything—just so he can release some of the frustration he’s experiencing from the situation. 

 

“Yeah,” Jongin replies curtly. The grip on his steering wheel tightens and he bites his tongue. Sehun doesn’t deserve to receive the brunt of his anger and borderline hopelessness. “I don’t really have a choice, you know?”

 

The older of the two turns his head a bit, seeing Sehun shake his head grimly in a gesture that is neither a yes nor a no. There’s a weighted silence before Sehun speaks again. “I still don’t think visiting a witch is a good idea.”

 

Jongin shrugs, “Like I said, I have no choice. My father is dying, Sehun, and the doctors have no idea what to do about it. _I_ don’t know what to do about it. It’s something related to magic.”

 

_Maybe._

 

Jongin’s not sure how magic works. All he knows, all everyone knows, is it exists and it is best to stay away from it as far as possible. Witches are notorious for being fickle, one wrong offense and Jongin and Sehun will be lucky to make it out in the same specie they come in as. They’re creatures of mystery who thrive in the fear and confusion they create for the non-magics. 

 

Witches are scattered in Seoul like flies in concrete dumpsters. Jongin has debated going to those who offer their _services_ in the black market but he knows—or, as much as it is possible to know—that people of magic prefer to stay out of others’ businesses, even those of their own kind. The best approach is to just ask around and find one.

 

Sehun has managed to find him someone, some twenty-five minutes of driving to the quieter parts of the city. The skyscrapers and the rush of time have long passed, shifting to houses and smaller sidewalks always seeming like it’s half-way stuck in the past. There’s a woman walking with a young child clinging on her hands. Jongin swallows the lump on his throat.

 

“That’s it.” Sehun points out to a tiny house on the end of the road. 

 

Jongin knows. 

 

There’s something about the house that sets it apart from its neighborhood. There’s nothing different about it,at first, just tinier than most of the houses surrounding it. But the size and the design of the house do not conceal the eerie _something_ surrounding the property. It’s nothing suffocating, just a little bit cold, sending shivers down the length of Jongin’s spine.

 

Sehun lowers his feet from the dashboard. “Here we are.”

 

“Here we are,” Jongin repeats, parking just a few meters from the house’s front. They’ll never know how volatile this particular witch is and they do not really want to trespass and risk the ire of someone magic.

 

Jongin gets out of his car after a deep breath, Sehun following his actions. Locking up, he shakes his shoulder and flails his limbs a little.

 

“Nervous?” Sehun eyes him without a hint of judgment.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You should be,” Sehun turns away and walks. “I still don’t agree with this hare-brained plan of yours.”

 

Jongin refuses to answer and continues to walk after his friend, lengthening his strides so they’re side-by-side. His gaze is trained towards the small house, resolute and strong. His father is dying.

 

The property has a small iron gate that barely reaches Jongin’s (and Sehun’s) chest. There is no doorbell to be found and Jongin is at a loss about what to do. He notices a toy-sized black dog, that looks more like a wolf to Jongin, looking at them from behind the gate. It’s nothing like any other dog Jongin has seen before.

 

“Hello,” he greets the creature, crouching low to appear smaller. Sehun turns to him weirdly before he, too, spots the dog and does the same. “My friend and I are here to ask something from the witch living in this house. We don’t mean any harm.”

 

The dog doesn’t do anything, just boring his eyes on them both. It tilts its head a bit and its tail wags lightly before it walks to the direction of the house. The gate swings open.

 

“Do you think—” Sehun drags, standing up just as Jongin does.

 

“Yes,” Jongin walks inside the property carefully. Sehun hesitantly walks beside him. “We’re not trespassing or disturbing the witch. They opened the gate for a reason.”

 

They stop at the front door. It doesn’t automatically open like the gate and Jongin debates with himself about knocking when—

 

“Boo!”

 

Jongin yelps and jumps a foot in to the air. Sehun has bent his body a bit, hiding behind Jongin after a muffled scream. Laughter rings all over the property, deep and bright.

 

“Hello,” the intruder greets. “I’m Kyungsoo. I heard you want to ask me a question.”

 

Jongin tries to calm his breathing and heartbeat, hands still pressing on his chest. The witch, who has appeared out of nowhere, does not look like any of the witches in stories and popular media. He has wide eyes and chubby cheeks, stature a little on the smaller side. He’s dressed comfortably in a large Nike hoodie and sweatpants. He doesn’t look like someone who will eat little children for breakfast. In fact, Jongin thinks he’s a little cute but the seemingly crackling air around the man deters any other comment Jongin may have said. 

 

Kyungsoo is distinctly otherworldly—in the literal (and, maybe, in the figurative) sense.

 

“I—Yes,” Jongin stutters. He wipes his hands on the fabric of his jeans. The witch’s stare follows his movements and an amused glint twinkles on his dark eyes. “I need some of your help—if you would grant it, of course.”

 

Kyungsoo pauses a little before he gestures for Jongin and Sehun to step aside. “Come in.”

 

The door automatically opens and closes for the three of them. Jongin wonders if an invitation is necessary to visit a witch’s house, stepping inside and removing his shoes on the entryway. Sehun does the same, if a little hesitant to step on the wooden floorboards in his socks.

 

Looking around, Jongin like how the interior is cozy, warm. There’s a fireplace in the living room and the couch doesn’t match the armchairs. Just a few meters away, Jongin sees a dark hallway and the tiny kitchen. The dining table has four wooden chairs—two baby blue, a bright yellow, and a mint green.

 

It’s a little unexpected. Colors spill on the clean white walls in the form of painted flowers, bundles and vines twisting and alive. Jongin has no idea what some of those are but they’re beautiful—an eternity captured in motion and suspended on walls. A painted bird flies and perches itself on the painted tree on the perpendicular juncture created by two walls. Painted leaves sway with invisible wind.

 

Sehun gasps and Jongin is sure his mouth is open in agape. Kyungsoo sits on one of the armchairs, head titled towards the couch. Pride shines on his eyes like a mother and Jongin cannot help but be fascinated over the beauty—of the moving, magical artwork, of the man who has created them.

 

“They’re gorgeous,” Jongin says after a moment. Sehun nods wildly in agreement. He hopes this is proper etiquette, complimenting the design on a witch’s home.

 

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo replies. He waves his hand almost lazily to the side. “Please sit down. I will hear what you have to say.”

 

Like clouds clearing up after a storm, Jongin snaps his head to the direction where Kyungsoo has asked them to sit down. With tense shoulders, he carefully takes a seat on the side nearest to Kyungsoo. Sehun plops himself beside him, hand going on his knee to squeeze it in a comforting manner. Jongin exchanges a glance at the younger man before he turns back to Kyungsoo. The witch watches their interaction with curiosity brimming on his all-knowing eyes.

 

“Go on,” Kyungsoo says.

 

Jongin takes a deep breath, letting go all at once, like the exhale will have taken out all the misery with the puff of air. 

 

“I think my father is cursed. He just stopped talking one day and, after that, he just got weaker and weaker. I brought him to the doctors and no one knows how to treat him. It’s not a non-magic illness.”

 

Kyungsoo tips his head to the side, right leg crossing over the other and his finger taps repeatedly on his knee in time with a beat that Jongin cannot hear. 

 

“You want me to cure him.”

 

It’s not a question. The witch stares at him almost blankly. He’s not looking at Jongin as much as he’s looking into Jongin. It’s something non-magics have always cautioned others for—witches can see you bare in front of their eyes, stripped off of one’s secrets and desires and wants and needs. They look and see the heart and soul, even the parts the no one is aware of. Witches are scary because they can know a person so intimately.

 

“Yes,” Jongin’s voice is strong and unwavering. “I want my father to live for as long as he is able to.”

 

“As long as he is _able_ to?” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows rise and Jongin feels Sehun’s knee bumping into his. The wording of his request is important. 

 

“As long as his natural life allows him to. Without anything magic-related interfering to his life span.”

 

“What makes you think that your father’s natural life is not destined to end by the hands of a curse?”

 

“Magic is not natural,” Jongin states in a matter-of-fact. There’s nothing malicious with his sentence and Kyungsoo must have felt it because the witch’s lips quirk slightly.

 

“Very well,” he says, leaning closer to Jongin. He is even prettier up close with his pale skin and pouty lips, Jongin muses. “But this does not come free. Everything is tagged with a price.”

 

“Anything,” Jongin breathes out. “Absolutely anything. Money or whatever, I’ll have it done.”

 

“I don’t want your money,” Kyungsoo retorts. The smaller man uncrosses his legs. “In exchange for your father’s life, I want your first born child.”

 

The air in Jongin’s lungs is seemingly knocked out of him in one swoop. His hands ball into tight fists and he can feel his shoulder muscles stiffen like he’s ready to fight. 

 

“Wait a second,” Sehun interrupts. Jongin turns to him with wide eyes. The man has promised to stay quiet throughout the entire time with the witch, saying he’ll let Jongin handle everything and will offer only silent moral support. Clearly, he cannot keep his promise. “What makes you think he’ll just give his child up?”

 

“His father’s life,” Kyungsoo deadpans. Sehun clams back on his seat like he’s burned.

skeptical, a little confused. “Do you not want a child?”

 

“I haven’t thought about it,” Jongin lies. He _has_ thought about it. He watches as the little confusion on Kyungsoo’s face morphs into something even more, something Jongin has no name for. He explains, “But there are other factors to consider. Does adoption count in the deal?”

 

“Yes.” Kyungsoo nods firmly. “Adopted or biological, your first child will have to go to me.”

 

It sounds sinister coming out of the witch’s mouth but there’s nothing diabolic about the soft way Kyungsoo’s mouth curls around the word _child._ Jongin thinks there’s longing in there—hope. Maybe it’s just his imagination, wishful thinking to soothe the guilt in his heart at what he’s about to do. Everyone knows what happens to first borns given to witches.

 

Before he opens his mouth, Kyungsoo interrupts him. “I’ll give you two weeks to decide. Please come back before that or your father dies. The curse has been on him for too long.”

 

Dread washes over Jongin like a reality. He really doesn’t have a choice. His father is dying.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sehun’s seething in Jongin’s top floor apartment, slamming two glasses of whiskey on the marble. Jongin winces at the noise, thankful that the crystal does not crack, before he downs half of the drink. It’s barely one in the afternoon on a Saturday.

 

“You can’t possibly believe what that witch said,” Sehun begins. Jongin has been waiting for a heated tirade since they have left Kyungsoo’s house. “He could be lying to you to get your future child.”

 

“Yes,” Jongin sighs. First borns carry an almost mystical quality—there’s a reason why people of magic always come after them. They’re more powerful if they’re given, handed by the parent to the witch with their own hands. Jongin takes another sip of whiskey. “But what can I do? My father will die in two weeks.”

 

“We’ll find someone—another witch!” Sehun throws both his hands. His tone progressively goes higher, pitch unstable and breathing erratic. “What if that Kyungsoo is just tricking you? What if Uncle doesn’t die in two weeks? What if he’s just saying that so you hand out your first b—”

 

“Shut up!” Jongin screams back, anguish evident in the harsh manner of his voice. He knows. He knows of the possibilities and the uncertainties. “All those what ifs—What if he’s not tricking me? What if my father dies in three weeks? What if he’s _not_ just saying that so I hand out my first born to him? I’m not going to wait for those what ifs. I’m not taking a chance with my father’s life.” 

 

Jongin breathes harshly, finishing the remaining alcohol inside his glass. He shoots Sehun an apologetic look and the man returns it with his own back. Pin-drop silence undisturbed by the vibrations of the air falls amidst the stillness of the modern space. Sehun stands up to fetch the entire bottle of whiskey. They haven’t eaten lunch yet.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The twenty-five minutes it takes Jongin to drive to Kyungsoo’s place seems longer the second time around now that he is aware of what he’s about to do, what he’s about to give up. He parks where he has parked before, opting to walk the little distance to the small house. Jongin slowly makes his way to the gate, his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his trousers.

 

This time, both the gate and the door swings open when Jongin passes through. He gets inside the house, muttering a soft _excuse me_ and padding on the wooden floors in his socks. If Kyungsoo does something to him, it’s going to be a little harder to run.

 

He turns to the living room and notices the witch seated on one of the armchairs. The small dog-wolf, most likely his familiar, is on his lap. Kyungsoo is stroking the creature’s fur delicately.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the man says slowly. The room has low lighting, dimming almost theatrically. It throws shadows on Kyungsoo’s soft features, making him look even more not-of-this-world than he already is.

 

“Have you seriously posed like that to welcome me?” Jongin blurts out, the question uncontrollable on his tongue. The witch colors red on the apples of his round cheeks. His hand stills on the dog’s fur, coughing softly.

 

“Sit down, please.” Kyungsoo directs to the corner of the couch closest to him, not addressing how Jongin has caught him being, well, dramatic. The lights return to normal. “You’re here to accept the deal, no?”

 

Jongin slumps down, sighing a little. “Yes. I don’t think I can bear to see my father die when I can do something about it.”

 

Kyungsoo stares at him before saying, “You’re a good son.”

 

The taller of the two shakes his head and murmurs, “I’m not going to be a good father.”

 

The witch does not give an answer, choosing to nudge the resting familiar and lifting the creature down to the floor. “Go get the medicine, Mongshil.”

 

Jongin smiles at the name—Mongshil. It’s an unexpectedly cute name for such a powerful animal. Jongin has always had a soft spot for cute, small things and he watches with fondness as Mongshil toddles past him, rounding the couch and heading towards the hallway.

 

“Can I ask a question?” Jongin turns to the witch once Mongshil has disappeared from his sight completely. One of the other man’s thick eyebrows rises a little and his eyes narrow suspiciously before his expression schools itself to something a little more neutral.

 

“I may choose not to answer,” Kyungsoo replies cooly, almost defensively. Jongin knows magics are secretive and protective of their community, opting to stay in secluded villages. Witches like Kyungsoo who roam the cities are often tagged by the government. The human authority may not be able to do much against Kyungsoo’s power but witches are still vulnerable like anyone.

 

“That’s okay,” Jongin says after considering his words carefully, thinking of the less offensive and horrifying way to bring his question up without offending Kyungsoo and his magic. He settles for, “What will happen to the child?”

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen and his lips part a bit before closing. Mongshil hurtles in a blurry black ball and the witch picks the small cloth bag it carries in between its teeth. He sets it down on the coffee table just as Mongshil jumps up to settle on Kyungsoo’s lap once again.

 

“I will not harm the child,” the witch promises, catching the hidden question underneath Jongin’s original inquiry. Kyungsoo’s wide eyes do not waver when they meet Jongin’s. The darkness of them is unnerving but Jongin admits there’s something beautiful about the color of the other man’s irises.

 

“How will I know that you’ll keep your word?”

 

“You won’t—but you want your father alive,” Kyungsoo points out, picking up the cloth pouch and tugging on the drawstrings attached to the opening. Softly, kindly, he adds, “We can put it in the contract.”

 

He fishes out a glass bottle from the bag. It’s like the medicinal syrups for kids, and the clear container allows Jongin to see the blood red liquid inside. Kyungsoo sets it in front of Jongin and, instantly, the taller man knows it’s the cure to his father’s curse.

 

“Do we have a deal?” Kyungsoo extends one hand to other man, palm up and open. Jongin looks at the glass bottle and gulps.

 

“Yes,” he says, nodding to himself in conviction.

 

“Very well,” Kyungsoo says. “This contract will carry on until I have your first child and no other witch can interfere with our agreement.”

 

Jongin shares a look with the Kyungsoo. Like any other time, the eyes are disconcerting when they look like they have the answers to all of Jongin’s existential questions. Witches are truly powerful beings. 

 

He nods, “Okay. We have a deal.”

 

Kyungsoo reaches for Jongin, cradling his bigger hand in both of his small ones. Jongin feels shivers go down his spine at the contact of Kyungsoo’s soft skin against his. The witch turns his wrist up, brushing the area with his thumb. Right hand disentangling with Jongin’s while the left remains holding Jongin’s limp hand, Kyungsoo closes his eyes and places his index and middle finger flat on the the skin of the taller man’s wrist. The contrast between their skin tones is fascinating.

 

Jongin doesn’t see Kyungsoo open his mouth for any verbal spell but the man moves his fingers to rub on the wrist where they lie. The witch’s closed eyes highlight the length of Kyungsoo’s eyelashes, fanning on the soft skin of his face. Jongin feels the surroundings going darker and he gasps and almost bolts when their joint hands glow with light, like all the brightness is getting sucked and going to Jongin’s skin.

 

“Calm down,” Kyungsoo says. “This is my magic working.”

 

Kyungsoo’s soothing voice is a balm to the loudness of Jongin’s beating heart. In pitch black darkness, only where Kyungsoo is rubbing his fingers has light. Jongin closes his eyes, trying to focus on the anchor that is Kyungsoo—Kyungsoo’s skin, Kyungsoo’s caresses, Kyungsoo, _Kyungsoo._

 

The light goes back.

 

“The contract is finished,” Kyungsoo says, withdrawing his hands. Jongin instantly misses the warmth. “You have to fulfill the end of your bargain or you will be permanently branded.”

 

Jongin nods dumbly before the word _branded_ registers in his mind. He looks down the on wrist that Kyungsoo has been rubbing, finding a silver owl tattooed on his skin. Jongin trains his gaze towards Kyungsoo, who’s looking unfazed by everything.

 

“Until the contract is fulfilled, the mark of my magic will stay on your skin. It won’t be seen by other non-magics; don’t worry,” Kyungsoo explains, plucking the question off of Jongin’s throat and answering it. “Only you and I can see the brand. And other witches, of course, so they know that you’re—well— _spoken for._ ”

 

Kyungsoo hands Jongin the small bottle, pressing it firmly on Jongin’s palm. The glass is cold on his clammy hand.

 

“Put five capfuls of this liquid in your father’s water once a day, for four days, beginning today. Make him drink the entire thing. The amount of water is not necessary but it has to be five capfuls in one go.”

 

“And that’s it?” Jongin is a little doubtful. “The curse will be gone? He’ll live?”

 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo answers strongly. “The curse is impersonal, too, so you don’t have to worry about the same witch going after your father.”

 

“How can someone just curse him with death out of the blue?” Jongin asks confusedly, a little angrily. His father is dying—is supposed to die—just because of the whims of someone with magic.

 

“I cannot give an answer to that.” Kyungsoo shakes his head minutely. “There are bad witches just as there are bad people.”

 

Jongin supposes Kyungsoo has a point. No use dwelling in the hows and whys; the bottle he’s holding will make his father okay, healthy.

 

“Thank you,” Jongin says sincerely. He hopes he conveys the utmost gratitude he has for the man and, feeling it’s not enough, he stands up and bows properly, his upper body perpendicular to the floor. 

 

He sees Kyungsoo’s feet just as the man stands up and moves, his hands pushing Jongin back up. The taller man looks down at the witch and the soft expression on his face.

 

“It’s no matter,” Kyungsoo says. He touches Jongin’s bicep before walking towards the front door. He doesn’t bother stepping out of his house and Jongin’s about to turn around and walk away when everything crashes into him once again.

 

“Thank you, Kyungsoo. I really can’t say this enough,” he says, grinning from one ear to the other. He can feel his eyes becoming a little wet and he wipes the corners with his fingers with an embarrassed laugh. Kyungsoo watches him with an indiscernible face.

 

“As long as you complete the end of your bargain. I wish your father good health and a happier life, Jongin.” He closes the door quietly with a soft smile. 

 

Jongin realizes he has not given his name to Kyungsoo at least once.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

That same day, Jongin calls his secretary for a week off. He readily agrees and reschedules meetings and business luncheons or dinners, already aware of the condition of Jongin’s dad. Once he gets the okay, Jongin drives to his apartment to pack his clothes before heading towards the outskirts of Seoul where his father, his mother, and their two stay-in house helpers stay. 

 

They’re a little surprised to see him and Jongin notices the redness around his mother’s eyes. The two maids both look solemn when they take his small suitcase.

 

“Come in, Jonginie,” his mother greets. Jongin feels warmth at the familiar endearment. “How long will you stay here?”

 

“A week at most. I got myself a leave from work,” Jongin replies, kissing his mother on the cheek. They head inside the lounge, his mom sitting on the couch beside him. “How’s Dad?”

 

The older woman sighs, “Nothing good. He’s trying to smile but—”

 

Jongin’s heart breaks when he hears his mother sniffle. He leans in for a hug and the tall woman tucks her head on Jongin’s shoulders. He rubs her back comfortingly, and Jongin does not want to think how his parents will react at the knowledge of the glass bottle with the soft confines of Jongin’s clothes inside his suitcase.

 

Death is nothing to look forward to.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Mom,” he promises.

 

Jongin wants to believe.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

That night, he follows all of Kyungsoo’s instructions—five capfuls in water and Jongin watches as the blood red liquid dissipates clearly without any remnants of color in the drink. He brings his father the glass of water with his dinner and Jongin remains beside the old man with a smile and never-ending stories until the meal is finished and there’s no drop of water left.

 

Jongin repeats it for four nights. There isn’t any difference on his father on the first, second, third, or fourth night. Jongin worries about the deal he has made with Kyungsoo but he shakes it off and convinces himself to trust the magic, Kyungsoo’s magic.

 

The morning after the fourth night, after the liquid in the bottle is finished, Jongin walks down the staircase only to hear his mother’s exuberant but slightly worried yelling. He hurries his steps and takes two stairs at a time, almost sprinting towards the kitchen where the noises are coming from.

 

“Dad!” He screams. There he is, Jongin’s father. His face is a little sallow still but it’s bright and open. He’s standing in front of the large island chopping kimchi and there are various food items scattered on the expensive marble. His mother and the two maids hover with worried glances.

 

“Jongin, son!” His father’s voice booms, strong and loud and excited. Jongin feels like crying. “Tell your mother to stop fussing because I’m fine! See?”

 

His father lets the knife down and he lifts his flabby arms to flex with a wink. Jongin feels laughter bubble inside him and he can’t help but throw his head back when the chuckles erupt from his stomach, unstoppable.

 

Soon enough, the house fills with the sound of joy and delight and relief.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

His sisters are called after and the weekend before Jongin has to work, they hold a family feast. The house is noisy with his father’s jokes and his mother’s giggles. His niece and nephew zoom around the house, showing off their toys and Jongin plays with them and the dogs contentedly.

 

On Sunday, they have a scheduled visit to the hospital and the doctors look torn between being baffled and being happy at the news of Jongin’s father’s recovery. Both his parents thank the medical team and Jongin shuffles his feet when one of the nurses, a middle-aged woman, shoots him a look like she _knows._

 

He turns away from her, hands trembling before he stuffs them inside the pockets of his jeans. His father looks healthy, is healthy, and the smile on her mother’s face is the most genuine he has seen since his father has fallen ill. The both of them are going to Jeju for a vacation in two days, proudly calling it another honeymoon.

 

Jongin leaves the hospital with a light heart but a heavy stomach, the idea of what he has done haunting him but when he looks in the rearview mirror, he sees his parents holding hands and whispering with soft giggles and finds himself not minding it at all. 

 

He’s okay. Jongin smiles to himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin visits Kyungsoo before he goes to work. There’s still no doorbell and Mongshil is nowhere to be seen. He places the paper bag containing cookies and pastries from his sister’s café, Kamong, on the ground in front of the locked gate. There’s a printed photo from their family gathering inside and Jongin has signed the back of the picture with a thank you.

 

He hopes Kyungsoo appreciates the gesture.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sehun finds out, of course, from the pictures on his parents’ joint Instagram. They’ve only been in Jeju for a couple of hours when Sehun barrels inside Jongin’s office, waving his phone like a madman.

 

“What have you done?” He shrieks. Jongin cringes and thanks the fact that his office is soundproof, even if it’s all glass walls. His secretary shoots him a questioning stare and Jongin nods his head once before the other man turns back to his work.

 

“Why do you even follow my parents’ Instagram?” Jongin inquires. “Andcan you please— _please—_ settle down? Anyone passing by my office will wonder what got you so hysterical before lunch break.”

 

“They take great pictures of their travel,” Sehun defends. The younger man sighs loudly before plopping down on the leather couch in the office. Accusingly, he adds, “You took the deal with the witch.”

 

Jongin doesn’t slump down on his desk but he does press his fingers on his temples, massaging the beginnings of a headache away. “I don’t have a choice.”

 

“You always have a choice,” Sehun points out, crossing his long legs together.

 

“Well, I don’t when it’s my father dying,” Jongin deadpans. He’s not in the mood to snap at Sehun and start another screaming match. He knows that the younger man does not want to upset him in any way.

 

“I’m glad Uncle is okay, Jongin,” Sehun whispers, barely audible except that the room is deathly silent. Jongin has even stopped typing on his laptop.

 

“Thank you.” Jongin smiles slightly, voice hitching at the last syllable. If Sehun has noticed, he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t comment on it.

 

A heavy moment passes and Sehun grumbles and runs his hand on his hair. Breaking the silence, he asks, “What are you going to do with the first born child?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jongin admits truthfully. 

 

“Maybe you can try to tell him you don’t want kids?” Sehun offers. His face contorts into something malicious, scheming. “You lied before that you haven’t thought about it, if I remember correctly.”

 

Seeing no point in lying, Jongin nods his head. “I was scared and I didn’t want to promise anything. But I ended up taking the deal anyway.” He laughs, a self-deprecating sound that has Sehun’s broad shoulders visibly drooping.

 

“Then, you need to delay it as much as possible,” Sehun says resolutely. “You’re one of the most baby-hungry people I know. The _witch_ cannot take your first born child.”

 

Jongin agrees, feeling bad for Kyungsoo but adding, “I mean, I’m sure he knows I won’t have a kid after two weeks, right?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kyungsoo thinks Jongin will have a kid in _less than two weeks._

 

“Kyungsoo, what,” Jongin deadpans. Kyungsoo’s sitting comfortably behind Jongin’s desk, munching on a cookie. Mongshil is trotting happily all over his office—the building doesn’t even allow pets!

 

“Hi,” Kyungsoo waves merrily. It’s a little cute except Jongin still has no clue why Kyungsoo is in his work place. 

 

“Hello,” Jongin greets back dumbly. Kyungsoo stands up from Jongin’s chair, rounding the glass table. The taller man notices Kyungsoo’s attire—it’s definitely not office-appropriate. Oversized sweaters, skinny jeans, and sneakers will get Jongin a fit of scolding from Junmyeon, executive or not. Once again, Jongin wonders how Kyungsoo is able to get in the building—one of the top floors, even.

 

As if sensing the unspoken question from the weight of Jongin’s staring, Kyungsoo turns to him with a small smile, wiggling his fingers towards his direction.

 

“Right. Magic,” Jongin murmurs. Kyungsoo beams at that, nodding his head a bit. “But why are you here?” 

 

Kyungsoo sits down on the couch and he follows the smaller man so he, too, is sitting beside him. Jongin feels his head spin. Mongshil runs towards Kyungsoo and the man scoops the familiar so its resting on Kyungsoo’s knees.

 

“We don’t allow pets,” Jongin blurts out. 

 

“He’s not just a pet,” Kyungsoo retorts, bending down to nuzzle Mongshil’s nape. It—He gives a soft purr and Jongin melts at the sight. Magical creature or not, Mongshil is adorable and Jongin is weak for him. He decides to drop _that_ argument.

 

Stroking the black fur, Kyungsoo trains his eyes towards Jongin. Once again, the man is hit by the inexplicable sense of otherworldly and non-belonging coming from Kyungsoo. The air around him always seems different. It’s nothing bad now but Jongin briefly lets his thoughts wander to how devastating Kyungsoo will be when mad—or in the height of passion.

 

He brings his hand up his mouth, covering the two coughs he has released from the momentary distraction. Kyungsoo still seems oblivious to where Jongin’s mind has gone.

 

“Well, I’m here to talk about our deal,” the witch says, turning his body slightly to Jongin’s direction without jostling the relaxed Mongshil on his lap. Jongin allows himself a short second to envy the familiar. 

 

“It’s barely been a month, Kyungsoo,” Jongin grunts, carding his fingers through his hair. “I won’t have a child for you in that short of a time.”

 

To Jongin’s surprise, Kyungsoo tilts his head, confused, “You won’t?”

 

Jongin gasps, indignant, “I’m not some factory!” He gestures to the direction of his crotch and he belatedly realizes how manically stupid that is before he feels his cheeks warming up.

 

Thankfully, Kyungsoo also seems embarrassed. His round cheeks are flushed prettily and the color goes down to his neck before it disappears into the sweater. Jongin imagines how far it reaches down. He mentally smacks himself at the thought.

 

“Not even a baby—” Kyungsoo’s hand circles his stomach, “—in someone else’s tummy?”

 

“No!” Jongin stands up with the strength of his denial and Mongshil even startles from the loud sound. Kyungsoo is quick to soothe his familiar, cooing and rubbing the dog-wolf behind his ears. Jongin, still standing up and now gesticulating wildly, continues, “I don’t even have a girlfriend! I don’t have someone at the moment! I’m very much single!”

 

“Oh,” Kyungsoo’s mouth drops open in what Jongin assumes to be realization. “You have a problem finding a partner?”

 

Evidently, Kyungsoo’s the type to put two and two together only to come up with five.

 

Jongin sighs deeply and he sits down again, carefully this time so Mongshil is not disturbed, before speaking. He figures it’s good to be honest, even a little, “I’m busy with work, you know? And well, I’m bisexual so there’s that. No baby in a one-night stand’s tummy and I sure as hell won’t adopt with someone I barely know.”

 

Kyungsoo’s neutral face turns to understanding and then, to Jongin’s horror, determination. He stands up, cradling Mongshil on his arms like a child. “I’ll find you person.”

 

“No! Kyungsoo, stop. I di—”

 

Before Jongin can even finish, Kyungsoo has snapped his fingers, disappearing with Mongshil in a puff of smoke, leaving the taste of something burning in the air.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin dreads going to work the next day, fearing that Kyungsoo is lurking around his office with his tiny familiar in tow and, he shudders as the thought passes his mind, a horde of unsuspecting non-magic and magic people for him to meet.

 

He drags his steps across the lacquered floor, absent-minded and anxious about the prospect of seeing Kyungsoo with a other people the witch has lured in as Jongin’s dates—maybe Jongin is used as the lure, a date with him in some fancy five-star restaurant that Kyungsoo has booked under his name.

 

“Good morning,” his secretary says happily. Jongin’s hackles instantly rise, shoulders tensing on instinct. Despite the customary acknowledgement, Jongin feels like something is wrong.

 

He walks to his office fast and, sure enough, there is Kyungsoo sitting on the couch. Mongshil is playing with a bright yellow ball.

 

“Hi, Jongin,” the witch chirps. “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

“This is my office,” Jongin answers flatly. Sighing, he asks, “How can you even go past all the guards? And with Mongshil too.”

 

“I don’t use the front door,” Kyungsoo states honestly and oh, that explains a lot. Jongin wonders if Kyungsoo has been joking last time about using magic for trivial tasks but it seems, for a witch like the man, magic is an integral part of being alive. Magic, Jongin assumes, is like breathing oxygen to one’s lungs for Kyungsoo. Maybe not even that, maybe magic just _is_.

 

It’s incredibly fascinating.

 

He sighs, calming down. It’s a little ironic how he’s the one with a debt but Kyungsoo is the one who is going out of his way to get his payment. Jongin asks, point blank, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Your preference!” Kyungsoo perks up. Jongin watches in awe as Kyungsoo pulls out two small token-like things from his tiny purse, throwing it in the air. They materialize and fall into the witch’s lap in the form of a ballpoint pen and a small notepad.

 

Jongin stares a little confounded but Kyungsoo turns to him with a small smile, saying, “I need to know your preference. Age. Job occupation. Personality. Looks. You know, what you find in an ideal someone.”

 

To add to the comical situation, Kyungsoo wags his eyebrows in what seems to be an encouraging manner. Jongin cannot help bursting out in laughter from the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. He gasps for air, wheezing while trying to regain his breathing back to normal. Kyungsoo stares at him with a blank face but the witch does not look mad.

 

Once he’s at least presentable, the other man rises one eyebrow at him, saying, “Are you done?”

 

“Sorry,” Jongin heaves, one hand on his chest as if it will help to get himself in control. “You’re really funny, do you know that?”

 

Kyungsoo turns his nose up with a harrumph and grumbles, “Are you going to answer the questions or not?”

 

Jongin shakes his head in amusement. “I really have no preference. Someone who’s of legal age, of course. Maybe someone who can make me laugh. A good cook will be nice, too, but it’s not necessary.”

 

The smaller man seems to be satisfied by his answers if the minute pleased smile on his face is to go by. Jongin watches in amazement as the pen moves on its own, scribbling his answers on paper.

 

Seeing the witch so concentrated on watching the words come to life on the notepad, Jongin can’t help the need to tease the man a little. He drawls, “Anything else you need to know about me? Favorite food? Favorite type of date? Favorite color? Favorite sexual position, perhaps?”

 

Kyungsoo snaps his head at that, eyes even wider. “Are you going to make me a baby now?”

 

_Well, shit,_ Jongin thinks, seeing the wild gleam on the witch’s dark irises. He half-screams, “No! I’m joking, Kyungsoo.”

 

The other man deflates like a balloon at that, narrow shoulders slumping slightly in obvious disappointment. After a second, he speaks up, “I learned yesterday that humans don’t just produce babies to people they don’t feel attached with. Unless it’s an accident or, well, unwillingly.”

 

Jongin nods, “Yes. I mean, the attachment is not necessary—like there are arranged marriages and all—but there’s some level of commitment from one or both parties.”

 

Kyungsoo soaks the words like a sponge, commenting, “I see.” The pen continues to record their conversation.

 

“Is that not how it works for people of magic?” Jongin asks. There’s so little known about them that he cannot help but be curious. No one knows exactly how and where people like Kyungsoo come from. But surely, they have families, right?

 

“Of course, we do,” the witch says, affronted. Jongin must have said his question out loud.

 

“Then, do you have a magical family, too?” he adds. He thinks of tiny Kyungsoo with his parents and he beams at the thought of a chubby toddler wreaking havoc in a remote village.

 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo answers proudly. “But, as far as I know, I’m not their biological son.”

 

Jongin does not say sorry—Kyungsoo looks happy and boastful when he mentions being adopted. It’s nothing for him to apologize for. Instead, he inquires again, “Then, are you some other witch couple’s son? How do people of magic come to be, anyway?”

 

Kyungsoo looks at Jongin’s face and the taller man feels the gaze bore into him once again, like that first time in Kyungsoo’s house. The witch stares at him for almost ten seconds before his eyes clear up and his lips quirk upwards.

 

“Some witches are born,” he explains. His hands come up to start making gestures. It’s endearing, really. “Some witches are made.”

 

“Made how?” 

 

“Witches can pass their magic to others, as long as there’s something _mystical_ about that person. The younger they are, the better. Magic is an inheritance in our community. We pass it to our offsprings and our offsprings will pass it to theirs.”

 

“So it can be anyone?” Jongin is wholly curious now, diverting his entire attention on Kyungsoo’s face. It’s more interesting than a pen moving on its own, he decides.

 

“Not just anyone,” Kyungsoo answers. He pauses and fiddles with his fingers like he’s trying to pick his words carefully, searching for the correct answer. “The world, everyone, has a little bit of magic in them. Some have more, some have less. The ones who have more, we can easily teach our craft to them. And the bond between the witch and that person is also essential.”

 

“So someone can just teach me magic?” Jongin asks, thinking of the possibilities.

 

“I doubt it,” Kyungsoo bites his full bottom lip. Jongin’s eyes drop to where the witch’s teeth graze the soft-looking skin. “For one, you’re old. And—ah—you’re the youngest, no?”

 

“Yes,” Jongin answers, eyebrows knitting together. There’s a question resting on the tip of his tongue but he’s sure it will not be well-received. Instead, he steers the topic away. “Are you sure you should be talking about this? I’ve always thought it’s a secret.”

 

Kyungsoo’s lips stretch into a wide grin, heart-shaped, and his eyes disappear in curved slits. “Not really,” he says softly. “You just have to ask nicely.”

 

Jongin’s heart skips a beat with the magic of Kyungsoo’s smile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kyungsoo is back in a little over a week with a printed out file neatly organized inside a manila folder. It's a little bit silly, in Jongin's opinion, but the witch seems so excited about the prospect of finding Jongin a match that he doesn't really say anything. He's trying to delay this as much as possible. He feels slightly bad but the idea of losing his first child, no matter how imaginary, makes his heart clench inside his chest. 

 

"I think I found someone," Kyungsoo begins, popping inside Jongin's office in a cloud of smoke. The smell of burning  _something_ accompanies Kyungsoo's travel across space and time and Jongin, training his nose and sniffing lightly, recognizes a musky scent characteristic of incense in front of family altars. It's weird but it brings back nostalgia of old homes from the past.

 

"Where's Mongshil?" Jongin asks, ignoring the folder Kyungsoo places on top of his desk. He looks around trying to spot the familiar somewhere but the creature is nowhere to be seen.

 

"Home," Kyungsoo responds. "I have to leave now for a meeting. Mongshil and I are going somewhere."

 

"Meeting?" Jongin's eyebrows go up. He doesn't think Kyungsoo's the type to keep a job. At that thought, he wonders how witches even make money—or if they even make one.

 

"Just someone who needs my help. It's no big deal," Kyungsoo shrugs. "Speaking of meetings, that person says you can call him to set your date. He's non-magic; you don't have to worry about me setting you up with witches." There's a wry grin on the other man's face and Jongin wants to smooth it out and replace it with something more wholesome and genuine. It's a novelty to miss someone's smile.

 

"Yeah," Jongin says, lying through his teeth. "I'll do that."

 

Kyungsoo gives a pleased nod and, before Jongin can say anything, he disappears once more in a puff of smoke. Jongin picks up the file and browses through the person's information that the witch has supposedly found (hopefully, willingly gathered). He's a two years older than Jongin, some Byun Baekhyun who advocates for witches' rights and protection in urban spaces. He loves going to karaoke but he doesn't know how to cook and Kyungsoo has drawn a sad face beside that. Jongin thinks it's endearing—Kyungsoo's drawing, not this Byun man. Baekhyun, according to the file, seems to have a wicked sense of humor and Jongin almost laughs while debating whether Kyungsoo intends for that pun or not.  

 

At the last page, after some more answers to questions like favorite color and food and ideal dating spots, there's a photo of Byun Baekhyun practically taking up the entire A4 sheet. The man is smiling wide in the photo, big and rectangular. 

 

Jongin cannot help but think it's the wrong shape.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The visits to Jongin’s office has become more frequent. The following weeks, Kyungsoo has always appeared in Jongin’s office with Mongshil. He’ll materialize stacks of magazines and self-help books from the tokens inside his purse, carrying baskets—actual woven baskets—filled with boxes of food and cookies baked from scratch.

 

Some days, Jongin even gives himself a pat on the back for choosing this particular witch to make a deal with. The incessant things—all the interviews and printouts containing profiles and photographs that Jongin has to vet, even the numerous blind dates he has gone through—are easily brushed aside. Jongin has kept his answers vague enough or much too specific that Kyungsoo must be going headless trying to find him a suitable partner.

 

If Jongin’s honest with himself, the longer the contract goes on, the longer Kyungsoo has to pester him like an unsocialized puppy. He tells himself it’s because of Mongshil. The familiar has his own box of toys inside Jongin’s office.

 

Almost four months after Kyungsoo has first gone for a visit, Jongin is called to Junmyeon’s office. He checks his watch—there’s an hour and a half before Kyungsoo just poofs on his couch. Smiling to himself and looking forward to the promised bulgogi, Jongin skips to the larger office just down the hall.

 

“What’s up!” Jongin impolitely throws his hand up. Junmyeon’s face twists in a grimace but he ushers Jongin inside the large office, gesturing for the younger to sit down.

 

“Jongin, hey,” Junmyeon begins awkwardly. He stands up from behind his desk, walking the short distance and sitting down beside Jongin. “I have something to talk to you about—off the records.”

 

That has Jongin’s eyebrows going up to his hairline. Carefully, he requests, “Elaborate.”

 

“Well,” Junmyeon clears his throat. The younger feels suspicion mixed with foreboding drop in the pit of his stomach. He continues, “For the past month of so, we’ve been getting—well—I’ve been hearing rumors around the company.”

 

“Of what? Who?” Jongin asks, a little incredulous, and then, realization dawning on him like a douse of cold water, he exclaims, “Me?”

 

“Yes,” Junmyeon coughs. “It’s about your visitor— _very_ frequent visitor.”

 

Jongin feels his blood run cold the mention of visitor. It can’t be anyone but Kyungsoo. They have always been careful. Kyungsoo never uses the human methods of going into the building and Mongshil usually behaves himself.

 

“What about him?” Jongin admits he’s a little testy and defensive, borderline protective. He knows witches do not have the best reputation but Kyungsoo has done no harm except for that one time he has almost magicked Jongin’s hair off of his head.

 

“There are things,” Junmyeon waves his right hand in front of Jongin, “going about him in the office.”

 

Jongin’s always had a little patience and, with the way his older colleague is dilly-dallying, he has even less. He almost growls, “Cut to the chase.”

 

Junmyeon pauses a bit before he schools his face into something that’s not resembling embarrassment. It’s there but Jongin knows an admonishment when he sees one.

 

“Don’t bring a hooker in your office,” the older man bursts out. His finger is in an accusing point directed towards Jongin.

 

Confused, he says, “What.”

 

“There are a lot of gossips going around the employees on the top floor. They’ve seen your visitor carrying baskets and staying in your office for a whole of lunch break, almost everyday. He’s not wearing the proper dress code in the building and no one knows how he can even get in.”

 

“So,” Jongin notes angrily, pissed off and offended on Kyungsoo’s behalf. “You came to the conclusion that I’m paying him for sex?”

 

“What am I supposed to do?” Junmyeon explodes on Jongin’s face. “The talk of the entire company is this ‘gorgeous man visiting Mr. Kim’s office regularly, always at the same time’ but no one knows how he’s even inside the building.”

 

Jongin scoffs at Junmyeon’s air quotations, “And what does that have to do with me paying him for—what—office sex? He’s not even a sex worker, for fuck’s sake.”

 

“I don’t care,” Junmyeon harshly rumbles out. “Everyone thinks you’re sneaking him inside the company and, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a say on what you do with your free time or your discretionary fund, but people talk, Jongin.”

 

The older man sighs and Jongin feels the fight dissolving from the tense line of his body. He sees where Junmyeon is coming from and Jongin’s position in the company and the length of the zeroes on his paychecks have expected complications and inconveniences. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “He’s really not that. We’re go—”

 

Junmyeon waves him off, “Just don’t do it anymore. Or do it where people won’t see.” The man extends his hand to the exit, eyes already closing and head falling on the backrest of the couch.

 

Jongin colors at the implication of Junmyeon’s words, standing up and leaving the office hurriedly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

In almost an hour, Jongin has wrapped his work up, hightailing out of the office building after leaving a note in Mongshil’s toy box. There’s a quiet park with tables and benches under the shades of big trees just fifteen minutes drive if he pushes the speed limit. Jongin has picked a table under a thick covering of leaves and he sits there waiting for his _frequent visitor._

 

“Hey.” There’s a snap in the air and the tell-tale smell of something burning. “Why are we not in your office?”

 

Kyungsoo sits across from Jongin, putting his basket on the table and pulling out various food items and utensils. Mongshil is already rolling on the grass playfully and Jongin licks his lips at the sight of the clear containers with his lunch.

 

Jongin rubs his neck sheepishly, debating on whether to be truthful or not. In the end, he decides to tell everything to Kyungsoo, trusting the man not to be offended or, at least, not enough to turn him into an animal. 

 

“I got reprimanded by Junmyeon. He thinks I’m sneaking you inside the building,” he admits. There’s a _why_ with the tilt of Kyungsoo’s head to the right and he still doesn’t look mad so Jongin continues. “For sex. There’s a rumor going around the office.”

 

There’s a moment of silence and Jongin says hurriedly, “Please don’t turn me into a frog!”

 

Kyungsoo stares at him and his big eyes go even rounder before his lips thin into a line and then—loud, tinkling laughter. Jongin stares with disbelieving eyes as he watches Kyungsoo bends himself in half with the way he’s chuckling hard.

 

“They think—Your officemates and employees,” Kyungsoo takes a big gulp of air, “they think I’m your favorite hooker! Oh god, this is—”

 

The witch erupts into high-pitched laughter, clapping his hands like a seal. Jongin allows himself to think of Kyungsoo as adorable with his eyes in crescents from happiness and amusement. And, because Jongin’s feeling good today with the sun on his face and Mongshil’s excited barks mingling with Kyungsoo’s peals of laughter, he also lets himself imagine what the other man’s lips will feel like against his.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The end of the week has Jongin in an increasingly amazing mood. Kyungsoo has said he’ll stop dropping by the office and, in turn, Jongin has extended an open invitation for Kyungsoo to just materialize inside Jongin’s apartment. They also, after a of couple months, have finally exchanged numbers. Jongin cannot hide his shock when Kyungsoo says that he does own a phone—complete with mobile data and whatnots.

 

However, all good and holy things do not last and forces of nature cannot be stopped. Like storms, for example, or Oh Sehun.

 

The younger man has been swamped with work but, apparently, Sehun has been released from the clutches of marketing when he barges inside Jongin’s office fifteen minutes before lunch. To Jongin’s rising headache, Park Chanyeol follows Sehun’s stomps.

 

“Good morning, Jongin,” Chanyeol greets politely. Jongin is instantly alarmed, Chanyeol is never polite in their company. Sehun snorts.

 

“What do you need?” He grumbles, already fishing out his wallet just in case he has lost some bet some time ago that he has just forgotten due the _events_ of the last months.

 

“Not your money,” Chanyeol teases, sitting primly on the edge of Jongin’s table. Sehun is standing on the other side with his arms crossed intimidatingly. The eldest adds with a wink, “We all know you need it most.”

 

Jongin a little confused just releases a question sound. Chanyeol waggles his eyebrows. It’s a lot disconcerting, Jongin thinks.

 

“Rumor has it that you sneak in your, well, favorite hooker during office hours.” 

 

Jongin groans as soon as the words come out of Chanyeol’s mouth. It sounds filthier when the tallest drags the syllables suggestively like that. 

 

Like an involuntary response, Jongin defends, “Kyungsoo is not a ho—Shit.” He curses, spying Sehun’s stormy face from several feet away. He’s a thundercloud, expression dark and lips in a displeased line. It’s comical except Sehun is slightly over six-foot tall built lean and broad. Jongin can take him in a fight but still.

 

“Kyungsoo?” Sehun barks. He purposefully stomps towards Jongin’s table and then slams both of his hands on the glass. “You’ve been meeting the witch in your office?”

 

Jongin, a little stupid, admits, “Not anymore.”

 

Sehun’s face clears up but Jongin just has to add, “We go to my apartment instead.”

 

He really can’t say he does not expect that hit on his head.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is NOT mpreg.
> 
> unbeta-ed.

It seems that Kyungsoo has taken the invitation to Jongin’s apartment with enthusiastic vigor. 

 

It’s a Friday night and Jongin has managed to escape the hellhole that is his office before six in the evening. He has sacrificed Sehun’s happiness for it but the younger can deal in the name of Jongin’s sanity. He’s in front of the television, lounging lazily in his sweatpants and bare skin while watching drama reruns. The male lead is about to be spectacularly beaten up by the second lead when the doorbell rings.

 

Jongin groans and he’s reminded of the buzzing headache he has. He drags his ass off of the couch, debating whether to go put on a shirt. The cognitive and analytical part of his brain think, _fuck it_ , before he just goes to the front door. He peeks at the tiny screen embedded on the wall and he’s surprised to see Kyungsoo outside, Mongshil securely in his arms.

 

He feels his face split with the width of his grin and he fumbles with the locks on his door in his haste.

 

“Hey,” he greets. His smile goes wider when he sees Kyungsoo and Mongshil wearing matching pajamas, a baby blue set with printed cartoon penguins. Kyungsoo, wearing soft indoor slippers, stands outside and Jongin wonders, “Uh—why are you not coming in?”

 

Kyungsoo sighs, put upon, “You have to invite me.”

 

“Oh,” Jongin exclaims. Maybe it’s a witch thing. If this is Sehun or Chanyeol, the two would have already barged inside with loud noises and heavy footfalls. Instead, Kyungsoo is standing with a neutral face, waiting to be explicitly invited. Jongin, not liking how Kyungsoo is still not in his home, says, “Come in then.”

 

Kyungsoo’s face forms a small smile and he steps inside the threshold of Jongin’s apartment. “Thanks.” 

 

He walks with tentative steps, eyes darting around, and Jongin hovers after the man. What if Kyungsoo doesn’t like hardwood floors? What if he thinks the abstract painting on the wall to be too ugly and pretentious? Maybe Jongin should have bought that artwork of clustered sunflowers instead or—

 

“Nice place,” Kyungsoo says after a moment. Jongin feels himself release a breath of relief and watches as the witch sets Mongshil down. The familiar skitters around before it leaps—and, wow, that’s impressive for a tiny dog though Jongin supposes it’s the magic in the creature doing the work—towards the couch, bumping its nose to one of the throw pillows before resting there.

 

The witch follows what Mongshil has done, plopping on the couch. Jongin snickers. For someone so adamant on being invited inside a home first, Kyungsoo has made himself easily comfortable on the cushions. Jongin feels endearment bubble low in his gut and he feels little thrums inside his stomach. He doesn’t dwell on it much, not liking the process of overthinking and overanalyzing every single thing. Maybe Jongin’s just hungry. 

 

As if on cue, Kyungsoo turns to him and asks, “Have you had dinner yet?”

 

Jongin, still standing dumbly in the middle of his apartment, shakes his head. “Not yet. I was planning on getting take out before you arrived.”

 

Kyungsoo clicks his tongue the way Jongin’s mother has done when Jongin’s still in middle school and forgetting to eat in favor of playing video games or reading comics. It’s a little bit funny and a lot nostalgic so he walks to the back of the couch, bending in half and resting on the back of the seat. His head tilted towards Kyungsoo, he grins.

 

“Cook for me?” Jongin whispers closely, softly. His breath fans on Kyungsoo’s face and he’s thankful for that mint tea he has drunk not ten minutes ago. He sees Kyungsoo’s nose twitch and something in his wide eyes changes slightly. Jongin cannot pinpoint what it is but he wonders if goosebumps rise underneath the cotton of the witch’s long-sleeved top the way Jongin’s naked skin feels like it’s rising in temperature. He remembers he’s still not wearing a shirt.

 

Mongshil’s distressed yip breaks the silence and Kyungsoo turns to the familiar quickly. He leans down, hands patting black fur. “Calm down, baby,” Kyungsoo coos and Jongin feels the heat evaporating before being replaced with an encompassing warmth. The witch baby-talks to Mongshil and Jongin considers banging his head on the floor because _this is really happening_. He’s seeing this right in front of his very face.

 

Mongshil has calmed down, eventually, with barely a minute of Kyungsoo’s soothing gestures. Jongin asks, concern evident in his voice, “Is Mongshil okay?”

 

“Yeah. Just a little bit weird about the new place.” Kyungsoo stands up and Jongin straightens himself. He sees Kyungsoo fidget and the witch’s eyes seem a little distant, foggy and distracted. He thinks maybe the witch is lying—Mongshil has rolled himself silly the first time he has gone inside Jongin’s office. He decides not to question Kyungsoo any further, figuring the man will not be pleased to being interrogated. Jongin files the observation away for a later time.

 

The man makes his way to the kitchen and Jongin grins when Kyungsoo grumbles, “Put on a shirt before you help me cook.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

There isn’t much inside Jongin’s pantry but Kyungsoo has whipped kimchi stew and rice for the both of them. If he’s not helping the witch himself with cutting the ingredients, Jongin is more than inclined to believe it’s magic. He says as much to Kyungsoo and the man laughs slightly.

 

“Your sweet talking won’t have me cooking you dinner everyday.”

 

Jongin swallows a large bite and he points out, playfully accusing the other man, “You’ve been making me packed lunch almost everyday.”

 

The slight pink on Kyungsoo’s cheeks lends the man a healthier glow under the lighting fixtures. Jongin takes a spoonful of the stew, eyes not leaving the witch.

 

With a cough, Kyungsoo defends himself. “It’s because I’m bored. I don’t need to make much money to survive.” He shovels a large serving inside his mouth and Jongin has never seen a more blatant ‘end of topic’except maybe if Kyungsoo suddenly disappears from the table. He grins despite himself, saving Kyungsoo from explaining, and latches on to a different subject.

 

He raises one eyebrow, sipping his water before asking, “Do you even work to earn money?”

 

Kyungsoo looks affronted and it’s comical if he’s not serious about it. “Of course I do!” He yelps indignantly, “I babysit kids in the neighborhood and I am, in fact, a professional dog walker.”

 

Jongin stills, “How can you even be a professional in dog walking?”

 

“I have flyers all over and the shelters recommend me for dog walking and training,” Kyungsoo puffs his chest a bit.

 

He looks so proud of himself and Jongin doesn’t want to dishearten the man by saying that _that_ doesn’t really constitute as something professional nowadays. Instead, he asks, “Does it pay well?”

 

Kyungsoo shrugs, “Money’s not that much of an issue. You non-magics are so concerned about being filthy rich that you sacrifice yourself for labor.”

 

Jongin has to admit that Kyungsoo has a point. Dog walking won’t pay Jongin’s high rise apartment and car—no matter how enjoyable the job seems to be. He nods sagely and he admires the content smile on the witch’s face, the easy way he lives his life. He can’t begrudge the other for it, even if Kyungsoo does have the advantage because of his magic.

 

He stares at Kyungsoo, a little bit teasingly, joking, “You should go have business cards made.”

 

To Jongin’s complete and utter fake surprise, Kyungsoo’s eyes widen like he has just said the most amazing thing in the universe. With a slightly reverent voice, the witch says, “We should make a logo that looks like Mongshil.”

 

Jongin throws his head back and laughs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kyungsoo, Jongin thinks, looks absolutely delighted—like the sun itself—when he presents him with one hundred cards printed with a small cartoon black dog that looks like Mongshil wearing a witch’s pointy hat. He looks even happier, tittering and laughing so loud, when he reads his name and, underneath, _Professional Dog Walker. Neighborhood Witch._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin feels like he’s lulled into a false sense of security. Months of being friends with Kyungsoo has gotten him relaxed around the witch. Kyungsoo’s really not harmful and he rarely uses his magic for jinxes. With the exception of that one time when they’re buying ice cream and one male student drops a little kid’s cone before fleeing without an apology, Jongin is sure Kyungsoo’s generally not the type to bother with non-magics, preferring to keep out of their business. He seems to rarely make deals too, Jongin has only heard three people coming to Kyungsoo for a potion or something.

 

Yet, on a Tuesday in the middle of him reading through a business proposal, Kyungsoo pops inside his office carrying a folder. 

 

“What—” 

 

Jongin has not even articulated his sentence yet but Kyungsoo slams the folder with purpose that he can’t even remind Kyungsoo that he’s been technically banned in the office for fear of clandestine meetings and questionably illegal practices.

 

“I found him,” Kyungsoo pants. “I found the perfect person that matches your description.”

 

“My description of what?” Jongin is a little confused. What is Kyungsoo on now?

 

“Your partner!” He exclaims, opening the folder directly to the A4 sized photograph of a man in spectacles and pushed back hair. “His name’s Zhang Yixing and he’s from China. He can cook, he’s smart, and he’s a music producer and a composer. I think you’ll like him!”

 

Jongin’s eyebrows rise in confusion, choosing to address the most pressing matter in Kyungsoo’s excited ramblings. “How did you even know a music producer?”

 

Kyungsoo waves his hand like it’s perfectly normal of him to know someone like Zhang Yixing. As far as Jongin knows, the man composes and produces for the nation’s top boy group. Shrugging, the witch answers, “He came to me before—”

 

“Like a date? He hit on you?”

 

“No!” Kyungsoo flushes red and Jongin breathes a little easy at the thought that Zhang Yixing has stayed away from the Neighborhood Witch. “He’s one of my clients before. And he said I can ask him for a favor if i ever need some help. Then I asked him questions about his love life and his preferences and, somehow, I convinced him to have a date with you.”

 

Jongin almost pities Zhang Yixing, hearing Kyungsoo’s explanation. He doesn’t even want to imagine how awkward it is for the man to be under Kyungsoo’s scrutiny—magic pen and all.

 

Just to stall, he asks, “And what about my other _specific_ requests?”

 

Kyungsoo proudly beams, “Yixing can work around anything. He’s shorter and older than you are and he’s insanely passionate about what he’s doing. I didn’t exactly ask him if he’s happy with his life but I brought one of my—well—magical devices and, trust me, the man is comfortable with how he’s living.”

 

Jongin sighs, resigned. It’s not something he can escape. He does have to find a partner to give Kyungsoo the first born child in their contract and wow. That.

 

That’s fucking Jongin up. 

 

The thought that he has to give up his child to Kyungsoo—even if it’s Kyungsoo—is like a hard slap on his face. Cold reality washes over him and he wonders if the only reason Kyungsoo has bothered to bother Jongin is because of the baby thing. If everything goes well, the witch will not have anymore concern with Jongin. It’s a business transaction, first and foremost. It’s no different than the proposal being outlined on the paper he has been reading before Kyungsoo has arrived.

 

Sighing again, a little dejected this time, he says, “When do I meet him?”

 

“Yixing is a little busy but he said, if you’re free, you can both meet this Thursday at seven. You’re free to text him to decide the place and his number’s in the file.”

 

Jongin nods and Kyungsoo gives him two thumbs up before disappearing. He pretends not to feel something inside him shift, break, alongside the tell-tale smell of burning incense.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin’s wearing a suit for his date with Zhang Yixing in an expensive five-star restaurant.The place doesn’t have a menu—reservations are done in advance and, once booked, customers can only select which full course meal from a selection available on that certain day. It’s a new brand of ridiculous but Kyungsoo has insisted on Jongin making a good impression for his date. The soft music twinkling in the background doesn’t alleviate his nerves and the patrons conversing in low tones make him antsy.

 

Jongin feels slight regret at arriving fifteen minutes earlier than seven in the evening but Yixing has texted him that he’s on his way a while ago. At least, Jongin doesn’t have to sit in the restaurant all buttoned up like he’s meeting the South Korean president.

 

He’s fiddling with his phone and texting Kyungsoo when a soft voice asks, “Jongin?”

 

Jongin looks up to see Yixing wearing a fancy suit that, like his, costs more than what some people make in a month. The man looks handsome with his dark hair styled away from his face. He looks a little arrogant but when Jongin nods and stands up to shake the other man’s hand with a greeting, the smile that breaks on Yixing’s face illuminates the kindness within the quirks of his lips.

 

“Nice to meet you.” Jongin withdraws his hand, gesturing for Yixing to sit down. “I’m Kim Jongin. But I’m sure you already know that.”

 

“Zhang Yixing.” The man shakes his head with a small laugh, fixing himself on the, frankly, uncomfortably snotty cushion of the chair. He adds, “Kyungsoo has told me so much about you.”

 

Jongin finds himself getting interested. “Really? Kyungsoo has talked to you about me?”

 

He sees Yixing’s lips tremble in what Jongin assumes to be badly hidden interest and intrigue. “Of course. He talked my ears off trying to convince me to go on a date with you.”

 

Jongin imagines Kyungsoo gesticulating a little overtop at Yixing, trying to list all of his good qualities and he feels his cheeks heat up to the tips of his ears. Butterflies flutter in his stomach and, this time, he’s sure it’s not hunger.

 

Yixing smirks, “I see,” before he rests his head on the palm of his hand, hunched, elbow on the table like a heathen they’ll both be scolded for. It’s not very appropriate at this kind of place, all straight spines and even straighter shoulders.

 

Jongin feels his hackles raise because there isn’t really anything _to see_. He tries to smirk back, just so he looks like he’s still in control, but the older man’s eyes look far too amused to be deterred.

 

Out of reflex, Jongin blurts out, “Don’t look at me!”

 

Yixing laughs loudly, commenting, “This is already the best date I’ve ever been on.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin comes back to his apartment a little before eleven in the evening. Yixing has driven himself and they have parted with a hug and a promise to keep in touch. The producer has winked at Jongin and has told him a very enthusiastic _fighting_ , raised fist and all that. Jongin has ducked his head in slight embarrassment, choosing not to comment.

 

Opening the door and loosening all the buttons of his shirt, Jongin jumps three feet in the air when he sees Kyungsoo curled up on the couch. The tv is showing some variety show that he’s not familiar with and he spies Mongshil lying on top of one of the armchairs.

 

Walking quietly and crouching low, he shakes Kyungsoo gently. 

 

“Kyungsoo, wake up,” he says. The man stirs from his slumber and Jongin watches the other’s lashes fluttering slowly like delicate wings. Kyungsoo bolts upright and he looks surprised when he sees Jongin beside the couch.

 

“What time is it?” The witch’s voice is raspy and Jongin wonders how long he’s been sleeping.

 

“Few minutes before eleven,” he answers. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Waiting.” Kyungsoo sits up more properly, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “How’s the date with Yixing? Do dates normally last this short?”

 

“It’s just a dinner.” Jongin picks up Kyungsoo’s ignorance about dating etiquettes and his mind automatically goes to the fact that Kyungsoo must have gone out on scarce number times—maybe he hasn’t even had his first date.

 

Kyungsoo hums, nodding his head listlessly. It’s a habit he seems to do a lot, from what Jongin has picked up. Curiously, Kyungsoo repeats again, “Then how is it? Did you like Yixing?”

 

“Yeah. He’s a great guy,” he replies vaguely. Jongin keeps it to himself that they barely talk about themselves, opting to converse about Jongin’s, as Yixing has dubbed him, Favorite Witch. 

 

Kyungsoo’s about to make another comment but he yawns in the middle of whatever it is that he’s planning on saying. Jongin nudges the other man.

 

“You can go sleep in the guest bedroom. We can go get breakfast tomorrow.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They reach an impasse sometime after the date with Yixing. Jongin has met with the man thrice after that—nothing romantic, just acquaintances getting to know each other more. He’s not lying when he called Yixing a great guy and the older man is a repository of interesting stories and idol gossips. Yixing is loose with his mouth with a couple of chugs of rum and Jongin prides himself on the trust he has built with the other in a short amount of time.

 

Kyungsoo has stopped with the blind dates, probably thinking it’s going well with Yixing. Jongin doesn’t correct the witch and there’s always the vaguely guilty feeling when he meets up with the producer to talk. It’s the stalling that Sehun has mentioned way back when and Yixing may be good company but every time they leave each other’s presence, Jongin tastes something bitter on his tongue that’s not alcohol.

 

The witch has not visited him for a week and when Jongin has tried asking, Kyungsoo has only texted a curt _In Busan with Mongshil_. The other man doesn’t explain but Jongin figures it’s another witch thing. Kyungsoo, before suddenly disappearing, has been raving about a plant convention for magics and non-magics alike.

 

Jongin, wallowing in self-induced misery and self-pity, decides that the best course of action is to invite Yixing out for a dinner.

 

“This is the fourth time,” the man has commented. They’re dressed more comfortably this time and the restaurant is casual enough that they can come without their suit jackets and with their sleeves rolled up.

 

“I think Kyungsoo’s avoiding me,” Jongin says without preamble.

 

Yixing pauses from where he’s perusing the menu—useless, really, since he’ll just order the same thing, always. The man’s eyes dart up to Jongin and the younger wants to shrink on his seat from the intensity of the stare.

 

“Forget it,” Jongin grumbles when Yixing has not said anything after a beat.

 

“What did you do?” Yixing accuses.

 

Jongin, a little offended, says, “What makes you think I’m the one who has done something?”

 

Yixing’s gaze bears strong on Jongin’s person and any lesser person will feel intimidated. As it is, Jongin’s been dealing with steely looks since he’s climbed up the corporate ladder.

 

The older man lifts his left shoulder slightly, saying, “Kyungsoo’s not the type to just avoid people. You must have done something.”

 

“Well, maybe he is,” Jongin, a little pissed at the unfounded accusation, snaps. “He’s clearly the type to ask for other people’s kids.”

 

The blame clear on Yixing’s face dissipates into confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

Jongin sighs, the fight leaving from him. Yixing’s not at fault that Kyungsoo’s flaking on him and not answering any of his messages. With a crestfallen tone, he asks, “Do you know how Kyungsoo and I have met?”

 

Yixing doesn’t hesitate when he answers, “I figured Kyungsoo helped you once and you just became—attached? Quick friends?”

 

“Yes. But not quite,” Jongin replies. It’s a little ominous of him to take a deep breath, releasing air slowly. “Kyungsoo and I have a deal.”

 

“And,” Yixing prompts when Jongin pauses.

 

“I have to give him my first born child in turn for helping me remove the curse on my father.”

 

Yixing’s eyes widen and he leans closer to Jongin, peering on his face. He seems like he’s trying to identiify if Jongin’s lying.

 

“Are you serious?” Yixing sounds a little incredulous. Jongin doesn’t think it’s that shocking. What’s a little contract between witches and non-magics. It’s not illegal, nor is it a secret.

 

“Yes.” Jongin wants to hit his head on the wooden table but he’s sure he’s going to attract too much attention by then and the the last thing he needs right now when he’s ready to bare himself completely to Yixing is the judgmental eyes and mouths of other people.

 

“Jongin,” Yixing breathes out. “Kyungsoo never asked me to make a deal.”

 

“What,” Jongin deadpans. Yixing’s joking, right? He says as much but the man’s face is a perfect image of somber stoicism. “But magic always has a price!”

 

His voice goes a little higher and there are several people who turn towards their direction. Jongin settles himself, waiting for the eyes to shift from them. It’s hard—especially when he thinks all of them are ready to listen to their conversation.

 

“No,” Yixing says. He’s all gentle and paternal, like Jongin is a child. Or maybe a ticking time bomb, Jongin feels much closer to a hand grenade ready to detonate any moment. “Magic doesn’t have a price.”

 

“Bullshit,” he whispers harshly.

 

There’s something like pity in Yixing’s eyes and Jongin cannot make of what it can mean. His head is spinning and there’s a throbbing pain on his temples characteristic of an impending headache.

 

“Magic doesn’t have a price,” Yixing repeats. “Witches have a price and, Jongin, Kyungsoo doesn’t ask for one.”

 

Jongin wants to scream in confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“Listen,” Yixing says. His shoulders are tense. “I met Kyungsoo through one of my employees. We’re at wits end at that time. I was cursed by some witch who had a grudge and one of my secretaries told me to visit another witch, Kyungsoo, who lives on her neighborhood. I was wary, at first, but she assured me that Kyungsoo’s a good person. Babysits her two-year old sometimes. I went and Kyungsoo lifted the curse happily and didn’t ask for anything.”

 

Yixing looks too serious to be playing a prank, or lying, and the ground beneath Jongin’s feet feels unstable when the older man has finished his story.

 

“No contract?” Jongin has to ask. He has to. He doesn’t know what to feel.

 

“Nothing. He asked for a VIP ticket for a concert by one of the idols I’ve worked with and a backstage pass. I gave it to him and brought him out to a nice dinner.”

 

“And your secretary? She met him from babysitting—”

 

“Yes.” This time, there are evident lines on Yixing’s forehead. His mouth is curled downwards and he’s nothing if not a picture of distress. “Kyungsoo’s also helped her. He gave a protection to her child when he was born. He does it a lot to the kids around his neighborhood. Toddlers mostly think he’s a fairy and they’d go to his house to give their tooth in exchange for a small plush toy.”

 

“Fuck,” Jongin curses. This changes everything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin is surprised when, three nights, after _that_ dinner with Yixing, Kyungsoo materializes in his apartment with a bag of Chinese take out.

 

“Hi, Jongin,” he says. He places the plastic bag on top of the dining table and Jongin wants to scold Kyungsoo for acting like he hasn’t cut off all contact on Jongin, like he hasn’t made Jongin miss him so much his body aches and craves. “Sorry for not answering your calls. I needed time to think.”

 

Instead of shouting, Jongin strides towards Kyungsoo in three steps, shortening the usual five it will take him, and envelopes the witch in a big hug. Kyungsoo squeaks as Jongin momentarily lifts him up, toes dangling in the air.

 

“Put me down,” Kyungsoo mumbles on Jongin’s shirt, wiggling a little. Jongin laughs but does as he’s told.

 

“Let’s see what you brought as a peace offering.” Jongin rifles through containers, pleased when he finds fried rice, kung pao chicken, and sweet and sour pork. It’s all his favorites and he knows a gift and an apology when he sees one. Kyungsoo doesn’t even like sweet and sour pork.

 

The witch sits down and Jongin, beside him, does the same. Kyungsoo’s ordered the ones for sharing and they open the boxes excitedly, digging in with their chopsticks and not even bother separating their portions.

 

After some bites, Jongin turns to Kyungsoo to ask the question that has been plaguing his mind since meeting with Yixing.

 

“Kyungsoo, I have a question.”

 

The other man nods, chewing his food slowly before swallowing. “Go ahead.”

 

“I was at dinner with Yixing,” Kyungsoo visibly tenses at the mention of the producer’s name, “and he mentioned something that got me curious.”

 

Jongin pauses, giving Kyungsoo a chance to get out of the conversation. He’s not about to force the other man into something that will be terribly uncomfortable for him. Kyungsoo, however, just nods. Jongin takes it as his cue to continue and ask his question.

 

“Why don’t you just find a partner of your own to have a kid with?” Jongin watches as Kyungsoo becomes even more tense so he adds, “For whatever it is that you need one for.”

 

There’s a stretch of silence and Kyungsoo pokes at one of the chicken pieces before he answers. “I can’t.”

 

Jongin, more than confused, raises an eyebrow.

 

“Adoption agencies don’t work with people of magic,” Kyungsoo explains. It’s soft and Jongin almost strains himself to hear the words come out of the witch’s mouth.

 

“And you can’t have your own?”

 

Kyungsoo droops down and Jongin feels his heart constrict at the sight. The witch is normally so bright and cheerful, a ray of sunshine despite the sarcasm and the judgmental tendencies.

 

“I think human doctors call it being sterile.”

 

Jongin is not surprised when the smell of burning incense invades his nose.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments 'cause they make me write more and i need my ego stroked. and, speaking of ego, check out my other baby, [Together, We're Building a Dynasty](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11357655/chapters/25421283). it's a multi-chaptered NHL AU.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta-ed

Jongin spends three days wallowing in Kyungsoo’s revelation. He dives into his work head first, deals and contracts and business strategies. He has accidentally scolded one of his employees, Seulgi, for something petty but he has made sure to apologize and to treat her to dinner. Jongin’s not one of the higher-ups known for being unreasonable and the woman has quickly forgiven him—even offering a consoling hand on whatever it is that has him on edge.

 

He manages to finish the acquisition he’s been working on for several weeks before Sehun and Chanyeol come into his office with threats and promises involving old, collegiate secrets worthy of several checks from interested gossip blogs. He doesn’t have much but Jongin is fucked if _that one time in Japan during one summer break_ gets out to the media.

 

Jongin ends up in a quiet bar in the pricier areas a few minutes away from their work place. It’s not some juvenile club, it’s a little bit like a lounge where everyone sits back and enjoys alcoholic drinks with nice food. They all order large glasses of something fruity and colorful, an inside joke among the three of them, and a bunch of finger food to share.

 

“So,” Chanyeol leans forward on his clasped hands as soon as their server leaves their drinks and snacks with them, “how are you so busy these past few days that you don’t even leave the office at six? You used to get so excited the moment your watch shows five-thirty in the afternoon.”

 

Jongin shrugs, popping a cubed melon in his mouth. “I have to finish the purchase for the company.”

 

Sehun, who’s been mixing his bright pink drink with the straw, eyes him with dark eyes that can seemingly peel all of Jongin’s layers of inhibitions and secrets. It’s disconcerting; Jongin’s mostly used on being on the receiving end of that kind of look from short-statured neighborhood witches with a penchant for dogs. 

 

“Did you have a fight with Kyungsoo?” Sehun asks. He doesn’t sound curious. He sounds so sure of himself, so knowing, like he’s got magic of his own. if Jongin doesn’t know any better, he would have suspected the younger to have one.

 

Chanyeol shoots Sehun a look and Sehun returns it with one of his own. They seem to be engaged in a series of complicated eyebrow movements and head tilts and Jongin would have felt offended except he can sort of guess what the other two are talking about. They’re not a tight knit group for nothing.

 

“Jongin,” Chanyeol begins, “are you not telling us something that you should be telling us?”

 

Jongin definitely doesn’t have to tell Chanyeol and Sehun everything but years of begrudging camaraderie morphing into shared misery and, then, finally friendship for keeps. It doesn’t mean he can’t play dumb though.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. He sips his drink and lets it roll on his tongue before swallowing the sticky sweet alcohol mix. Silence envelopes their table and the crooning of the jazz singer rises above the minimal din of the patrons. Jongin rifles through the fruit bowl in search for strawberries or grapes.

 

Sehun makes a tsk-ing sound and he leans on the table with a small sneer. He drawls, “Don’t front. We all know how hot you get for Kyungsoo.”

 

“Don’t,” Jongin glares, kicking Sehun under the table and, for good measure, making sure that Chanyeol’s shin takes a little bit of the brunt of his irritation too. The man yelps loudly and they attract the attention of the other customers. They’re regulars in this establishment though and the owner knows them personally like distant relatives you are reluctant to hang out with. Chanyeol still flushes and he ducks his head just as Jongin swipes a piece of fruit, chewing aggressively like it can will the embarrassment away.

 

“Sorry,” Jongin mumbles. Chanyeol gives him a wry grin and Jongin sighs before drinking a good fourth of his drink. Sehun steadily watches him, not breaking any eye contact. It’s a whole new brand of creepy and it’s intimidating in a way only Sehun is.

 

“It’s not about me liking Kyungsoo or not,” he cracks. 

 

“Explain,” Sehun says magnanimously.

 

“It’s—okay,” Jongin pushes his drink away, leaning back on the plush seat like a king. Or a criminal ready for execution. “Look, it’s not about whether I like Kyungsoo or not.”

 

“What is it about then?” Chanyeol asks softly. Jongin wants to hide; Chanyeol seldom does anything softly.

 

“It’s about the fact that, I think, Kyungsoo wants a baby for the sake of having a baby.”

 

“Come again?” Sehun bursts out. Even Chanyeol’s already wide eyes go even wider. Jongin shakes his head, heartbeat going crazy and erratic. He has a hunch, way before Kyungsoo has admitted to being sterile, but the confirmation has strengthened Jongin’s instinct. It’s the first time he has said it out loud and he looks around the bar surreptitiously, like Kyungsoo is about to pop up anytime soon and turn him into an unpleasant animal with a point of his finger—or worse, stop talking to him again, permanently this time.

 

“What do you mean?” Chanyeol loosens another button on his white shirt, moving closer on the edge of his seat. “Kyungsoo wants your baby not because of any nefarious witch reasons? No evil rituals involving sacrifices?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Jongin frowns. He can’t really imagine Kyungsoo performing any dark magic on Jongin’s child, on anyone’s child, really. It’s a relief to have gotten it out in the open. It’s pulling a needle from his throat or lifting a heavy rock off of his chest. Jongin breathes a little easy.

 

“What makes you say that?” Sehun inquires. The man looks contemplative but there’s a shift of _something_ on his expression, like he’s trying to piece together the image of a witch and Kyungsoo himself.

 

“I’m not sure if I can share,” Jongin admits. It’s true that he’s not certain if he can tell Sehun and Chanyeol about Kyungsoo being sterile but, at the same time, he doesn’t want to. It’s feels like a confidential agreement, even if Kyungsoo has not asked of him to do so. It’s something Jongin wants to protect, something of Kyungsoo so integral and so close to the man that he doesn’t want to just divulge even to his best friends.

 

Chanyeol shrugs, “Then tell us what you can. No pressure or anything.”

 

Jongin nods his head, reminded again of the reason why his close friendship with the other two has lasted. “Kyungsoo’s very close with kids. You know Yixing, right? He told me that he met Kyungsoo when he got cursed. He wasn’t asked to pay a contractual price, just concert tickets and a dinner. Apparently, he does a lot of favors for his neighbors, too.”

 

He pauses, letting the information sink in. Jongin pulls the sweet drink to him, pushing the straw away and foregoing it in favor of gulping the alcohol straight. The sugary line it paints on his throat does nothing to clear his mind or calm his stomach and Jongin is half-way tempted to list on the table like a particularly dispirited flower.

 

“And let me guess,” Sehun tapped on the table with his index finger twice, “you want to give him a baby now.”

 

Jongin groans and he’s about to open his mouth to say—whatever. He’s not sure what he will say. Maybe a no, maybe a yes, maybe a defense of Kyungsoo, maybe a _Can we go to adoption agencies and ask for my options right now, please?_

 

Sehun clicks his tongue and Jongin watches dawning realization washes across Chanyeol’s face even before the youngest says, “And you’re not sure how to go about this because you like Kyungsoo. You want to date Kyungsoo.”

 

Jongin just nods. 

 

There’s no use to lying or denying. He’ll end up unhappy, either way. He’s not even convinced that Kyungsoo likes him as a potential partner, perhaps a little but what if it’s not enough for the witch to say yes when Jongin asked. And how about the goddamn contract—Jongin’s about to lose his stupid head.

 

“I’m glad you’re not adding anymore unnecessary drama to what you’re already in by uselessly not admitting your feelings to yourself, dude.” Sehun sighs, shaking his head and raising his glass. Jongin finishes his alcohol, amen to that and all.

 

“Well, fuck,” Chanyeol whispers, “we need something stronger to drink.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It turns out that the best thing three businessmen can come up with is for Jongin to confront Kyungsoo directly. No sugarcoating, no anything—just plain questions and straightforward answers and whatever Kyungsoo is comfortable sharing.

 

Jongin is more than anxious. He is trembling like a leaf hanging weakly on a tree branch when he texts Kyungsoo about going to the witch’s house. He figures he can do it inside the safety of Kyungsoo’s home. It’s cozy and warm and Jongin wants to give all the control to the witch when they talk.

 

He feels himself thrown out of his reality, hanging upside down in a limbo while waiting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin shows up to Kyungsoo’s house promptly at six the next night. He’s glad he has no hangover. He, Sehun, and Chanyeol have gotten spectacularly drunk, commiserating in the farce that is Jongin’s life. Chanyeol has called it karma for that one time Jongin has ruined his date back in freshman year of university. It’s a lot stupid but Jongin privately agrees—he has nothing to fall back on as an explanation as to why his life is going downhill at constant acceleration.

 

He’s dressed casually, dark jeans and a pinstriped button down with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is in a neat comb and Sehun slaps him up the head for bothering to wear a date-worthy outfit on a decidedly not-date.

 

When Kyungsoo opens the door—personally, no magical automatic swinging, Jongin’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of black skinny jeans, tight and strategically ripped to show a sliver of pale skin. The sweater Kyungsoo has on is soft-looking and Jongin wants to touch the material and maybe slip his hands underneath.

 

“Good evening,” he gulps. It sounds so formal, so unlike him, that, when Kyungsoo steps aside so he can get in, the witch gives him a curious look. It’s a little guarded, nothing like the inviting brightness of his usual smile, all heart-shaped, making his heart race. 

 

“Good evening,” Kyungsoo greets back. Jongin removes his shoes and he slips into his pair of indoor slippers before following the shorter man to the small dining area. And, damn it, Jongin has his own pair of house slippers in Kyungsoo’s home. He feels panic and anxiety rise in his blood and his palms closed into tight fists when his eyes fall on Kyungsoo’s behind. 

 

Jongin’s thirty kinds of nervous right now.

 

“Let’s eat first,” Kyungsoo says, gesturing to the table filled with all sorts of traditional side dishes and two steaming bowls of rice. There’s a plate of spicy chicken and Jongin’s mouth waters at the food. 

 

He sits down across from Kyungsoo, on the mint green one, while the witch settles on one of the baby blue ones. It’s a little on the smaller side and, just like all the times Jongin has eaten with Kyungsoo on this very same table, sitting on the very same chair, their knees bump underneath. Jongin internally freezes, like always, but this time, it’s with the knowledge that this is Kyungsoo on the other side—the friendly neighborhood witch who kids think of as a fairy than any malevolent magical person, the one whom Jongin, at least, likes. He’s not sure if he’s ready to admit to the next commitment even if the word like is a poor description to the warmth and the comfort Kyungsoo’s mere presence can bring him.

 

Baby steps, he figures. Tiny baby steps.

 

The silence is discomfiting, unlike the many times they have enjoyed each other’s company without speaking. The clinking of the utensils is the ticking of the proverbial bomb and Jongin feels cold even if Kyungsoo’s home always feels like it has the perfect temperature despite the distinct lack of any heating or cooling appliance.

 

Half-way through the meal, Jongin bites the bullet and says, “I’m sorry.”

 

Jongin watches as Kyungsoo stiffens up, shoulders tensing and knuckles white on where he’s gripping his metal spoon. He notices the slight trembling of the other’s fingers and Jongin wants to go on his knees and maybe kiss and grovel in front of Kyungsoo as an insufficient apology.

 

“For?” Kyungsoo says, barely sparing him a glance as he stuffs a huge piece of potato pancake in his mouth. It’s passive-aggressive as hell but Jongin, who is helpless in the face of Kyungsoo’s, well, face, thinks it’s cute and endearing. 

 

He’s thoroughly and truly fucked. That’s what he is.

 

Regardless, he decides to be honest to Kyungsoo. He _wants_ to be honest to Kyungsoo. It’s not even the witch’s magic—unless it’s the other’s smile or his eyes or his voice, in which case, then Jongin is inclined to agree. Kyungsoo’s _everything_ is pretty magical and he’s not talking about how the shorter male can turn people into animals.

 

“For not talking to you for days,” he clarifies. He puts his chopsticks down and takes a huge gulp of the ice cold water. His tongue feels heavy inside his mouth.

 

Kyungsoo finally looks up and Jongin’s heart stutters in his chest when the gaze passes through the thickness of the man’s dark lashes before the look turns to him straight on. Eye level to eye level.

 

“Was that revenge,” Kyungsoo asks softly, “when I didn’t talk to you for a week?”

 

Jongin takes in the low tone and the guilt and the slight droop of the no-longer tense shoulders. “No!” He says indignantly. That’s not how it works. That’s not how _this_ works. “It’s not. I’m not getting back at you or anything, Kyungsoo. That isn’t healthy or whatever. I get that you need time and space. And I do as well. So I did. i should have told you or something, and I’m sorry about that.”

 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Kyungsoo mutters and Jongin’s heart breaks a little, maybe a lot, because the other man is right. He doesn’t have to be sorry. They’re not in a relationship. 

 

Fuck. That stings.

 

“You have a question, right?” It’s an obvious attempt at deflection but Jongin takes it and runs away with the opening.

 

“Questions,” he answers. “I think i have a few.”

 

“Okay,” Kyungsoo scrapes his spoon on the bowl, bringing a bite to his lips, and Jongin watches pouty lips close around the metal and he gulps, reaching for the cold glass of water again. Kyungsoo says, while Jongin is slowly sipping water, “After dinner. I’ll make us some tea.”

 

Jongin nods and, suddenly, out of nowhere, the food doesn’t taste as good as before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kyungsoo makes them tea that smells like apples and cinnamon and a variety of spices that Jongin has no idea what to call. It wafts all over the small space of Kyungsoo’s house and Jongin finally notices Mongshil, lying on the the one of the arm chairs like it’s his throne. The familiar seems relaxed but there’s something watchful about the way his eyes are trained on Jongin’s person. One wrong move, Jongin thinks, and he’s going to be lucky enough to come out in one piece—or as an actual human being.

 

It’s a risk he’s willing to take, unsurprisingly. It’s a little stupid, too, but Jongin’s always been a go-getter. He wouldn’t even be here in the first place if not for the fact that he really has done a deal with a witch.

 

“Ask,” Kyungsoo commands. He takes a sip of his tea and Jongin mimics Kyungsoo, blowing air to ward the heat and setting it down on the glass table as quietly as possible.

 

Jongin exhales the air he has felt like he’s been keeping since the moment he has walked in inside Kyungsoo’s home. It doesn’t make him feel better nor does it make him feel lighter but it does an impressive way of speeding his heart rate by a few miles per hour.

 

He thinks, _whatever,_ and asks directly, with no excessive sentiments, “Why didn’t you try healing yourself?”

 

“Of what?” Kyungsoo snorts. It’s unattractive and there’s a touch of grimace on the man’s face. “Sterility?”

 

“Yes,” Jongin whispers back. No hint of judgment, neutral, nothing but curiosity.

 

Kyungsoo visibly softens and Jongin’s fingers twitch with the need to bring Kyungsoo closer. He wants to bring the witch on his lap, or in between his legs, to give him physical contact as support. Jongin’s eyes feel like it’s heating up when he sees the way Kyungsoo’s face is being taken over by silent longing. He realizes, knows—

 

“I can’t,” Kyungsoo shakes his head, interrupting Jongin’s thoughts, “Witches can’t cure diseases, Jongin. We’re magic not god.”

 

“That’s—”

 

“Unfair?” Kyungsoo asks wryly, the left side of his mouth is lifted in a derisive grin. “It’s not. We don’t live forever. We have the same mortal life span. I’m a little more powerful than you are, Jongin, but I can die like any other person. Like you.”

 

Jongin sucks in a deep breath. He has never thought about that before. He has always assumed that witches are invulnerable, invincible. Kyungsoo’s just like he is, just a little bit _more,_ but that’s a given anyway.

 

“And the first born child?”

 

“Is still part of the deal,” Kyungsoo says firmly but there’s a slight waver in his tone and Jongin is almost surprised when Mongshil leaps on the couch to Kyungsoo’s lap. The witch pets the creature and Mongshil leans his head towards Kyungsoo’s warmth. It reminds Jongin a little of service dogs.

 

Kyungsoo speaks up again, “I’m sure you’ve heard things from Yixing but a contract is a contract Jongin. Your first born child, biological or adopted, will have to go to me.”

 

The familiar words roll off of Kyungsoo’s tongue steadily. It’s like that time, when Jongin has made a deal with the witch, but today, in this tiny house in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, Jongin lets the overwhelming longing in Kyungsoo’s voice wash over him. Jongin knows—

 

“You want my first born so you can have a baby,” he says, quietly. The words almost escape to the wind but Kyungsoo’s hand on Mongshil pauses and the familiar makes stressed out sounds, little whines of sadness, and Jongin wonders about the bond between a witch and their familiar, wonders if it stretches to this—Mongshil reflecting Kyungsoo’s emotions and if yes, then a lot of things make sense. It gives Jongin hope.

 

“Kyungsoo, do you want to be a father?” He shuffles closer and his thighs are pressed on Kyungsoo’s. It’s warm.

 

The other man looks up at Jongin and Jongin feels like he can cry fifteen times to Sunday with the look of absolute heartache and yearning and honesty on Kyungsoo’s small face. It’s—Jongin cannot even imagine wanting to be a parent that desperately. And he reaches one of his hands so he’s holding Kyungsoo’s smaller one on his, linking their fingers together. He asks himself if this is okay but Kyungsoo squeezes his hand hard and Jongin figures that’s a good answer as any.

 

“I want to have a kid,” Kyungsoo admits. His voice breaks in the middle and his eyes have a noticeable sheen. There is something heavy on top of Jongin’s chest. Kyungsoo adds, “I want to be someone’s father. I want to have a baby, Jongin.”

 

And that—that is raw honesty and trust.

 

Jongin moves, leans, some more. He crowds into Kyungsoo space and he wants to stand up and walk away but the other man closes his eyes and Jongin sees the wetness on Kyungsoo’s eyelashes and the slight flushed on his cheeks. Mongshil makes a tiny sound but Jongin grips the hands in his hold tighter.

 

He kisses Kyungsoo on the forehead, soft and lingering, and then on the corner near of his mouth. Their lips do not touch but it’s an almost, a what if.

 

It appears to be a goodbye and a promise at the same time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s guilt, Jongin supposes. His stomach churns every time he remembers Kyungsoo and how he has not made an effort to find a date, at least.

 

He tells this to Kyungsoo—about asking someone for a date, and there’s a slight disappointment in Kyungsoo’s face and Jongin knows he has done something wrong by going on a date with Seulgi but he can’t take it back.

 

He can’t because he remembers the way Kyungsoo’s face looks and there’s a large amount of doubt clouding his senses. 

 

And Jongin, no matter what others say, is really a goddamn coward.

 

(They have stopped talking after that.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Seulgi is nice.

 

Seulgi is, well, not the friendly neighborhood witch that Jongin wants to date. It’s not fair but Jongin has confessed to Seulgi that it’s nothing serious—just him trying to date again, maybe find someone. She has eyed him with something akin to pity, like she knows why Jongin is doing this, but that’s irrational. Seulgi doesn’t even know Kyungsoo. She probably does, but that’s because of those rumors in their office that, while somewhat dead now, are closer to an urban legend than anything.

 

He wants to apologize to Seulgi so he does, but the woman pats Jongin twice on the cheek and says, “It’s not like I’m in love with you. It’s the first date. We’re not going to have a kid.”

 

And that. That sets him off even more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Predictably, the news of him and Seulgi going out has reached the ears of Sehun and Chanyeol. Jongin may be the topic of the grape vine but he has to give it to whoever runs that shit, it’s fast and efficient. 

 

“So Seulgi,” Sehun deadpans. They’re on the executive’s lounge, eating food delivered from that Chinese place two blocks away. One of the pros of being so high up in the corporate chain is they get to enjoy cushioned seats on a wooden dining table with a flat screen television up front. It’s showing a rerun of a drama that the three of them find particularly enjoyable. The female lead is nursing her broken heart.

 

“Yes, Seulgi,” Jongin says. He’s not going to elaborate. There’s nothing much to say. Seulgi is kind and she’s giving Jongin a chance. If anything, Jongin thinks that Seulgi has had a few guesses as to why he’s trying to date. He has an idea as to what they are but he’s not in any rush to confirm.

 

“Didn’t you say you’re in love with Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol notes, chewing loudly with his mouth open. Jongin sucks in a deep breath because that is a word he’s not about to touch with a hazmat suit and a ten-foot pole.

 

Sehun elbows the older man and Jongin looks down on his plastic container, stuffing his face with a particularly large portion of his lemon chicken and stealing a piece of beef from Chanyeol’s. The man doesn’t protest and Jongin figures it’s the only sorry he’ll get. He shrugs.

 

“It didn’t exactly work,” he mutters, poking the meet and swirling it around on the thick sauce. It’s very a seven-year old behavior but Jongin has long past the point of caring at this point.

 

“Did he reject you?” Sehun takes a sharp intake of breath and he slams both of his palms on the table. The takeout boxes bounce once and Jongin’s opened can of diet soda almost spills if not for his quick reflexes.

 

“Watch out,” he says just as Sehun asks, “Is this why you’re dating Seulgi?”

 

“I’m dating Seulgi because I want to try,” Jongin defends. Sehun and Chanyeol both narrow their eyes at him and Jongin almost shrinks, or want to, from the twin gazes of accusation and disbelief. Sehun’s face pulls half way into a sneer and half way into a grimace. If it’s not directed at him, Jongin is inclined to be impressed by the sheer expressiveness of the younger man’s face.

 

“Is Kyungsoo forcing you to date to finish the deal?” It’s not exactly a question and it sounds scary, though Jongin won’t admit that even to himself, when Chanyeol’s deep as fuck voice rumbles, vaguely threatening.

 

“He’s not,” Jongin defends. It’s the truth anyway and he feels a little anxious at the faces Chanyeol and Sehun are making. He warns, “Don’t do anything dumb to Kyungsoo.”

 

Sehun and Chanyeol share a look and Jongin thinks, a little horrible of him, that if the two wanted to be turned into animals so bad, then Jongin won’t stop them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin has invited Seulgi home—no, not like that. He feels bad that, on their last date, he has made her wait for almost 30 minutes in their restaurant reservation alone. She has been in a black dress and red heels, hair done all pretty, and Jongin gets there from a meeting running long past an appropriate time. Seulgi has laughed it off, saying, “It happens.” and Jongin, in a moment of panic and remorse, has asked her if she wants to have dinner at Jongin’s place the next time.

 

Seulgi has agreed and Jongin tells her to dress casually. He makes a simple pasta dish and there’s an expensive tub of gourmet ice cream inside the freezer. When Seulgi arrives, Jongin gives her a short hug and a, “Come in.”

 

She’s dressed in jeans and a floral patterend button down, her feet in comfortable looking sneaker. Jongin feels a little stupid for expecting her to come in her pajamas and house slippers.

 

The dinner goes well. Seulgi is a great conversationalist. She has to be, to be in her profession. She doesn’t get lost in her own thoughts and she eats slowly and delicately, carefully. Her spine is straight and her clothes have no stray dog fur on them.

 

Jongin doesn’t want to compare but the smile on his face progressively becomes faker as the night goes on. They take their time with the pasta and the white wine Jongin has picked up has a nice body that goes well with the seafood on the pasta. It’s a good deterrent as any, Jongin trusts Seulgi but there won’t be any activity of the bedroom variety when they have scarfed down shrimp and mussels and clams paired with toasted bread loaded with cheese and garlic.

 

They’ve moved on to ice cream and Jongin places scoops on fancy glasses, serving it with a dessert spoon. Seulgi is talking about a her friend but Jongin’s mind is wandering towards thoughts of wide eyes and big smiles and eating ice cream directly out of the box.

 

Seulgi sighs with a grin, “You don’t really want to be here, do you?”

 

Jongin startles, blurting out, “Sorry.”

 

She shakes her head and the quirk of her lips is teasing now. She waves her hand nonchalantly and there it is again, the guilt.

 

“Come on, Jongin. Spill,” she leans forward. “What got you dating good ol’ me?”

 

Jongin wants to say “Nothing.” but it’s as incriminating as any answer. No one dates other people for _nothing._

 

He wants to be honest, for once, so he says, “I like someone else.”

 

Seulgi’s smile turns even broader and she’s really pretty, Jongin thinks, but it’s not _it._

 

“I knew it,” she breathes out. Her voice is light and teasing and she takes another bite of her cold treat before gesturing towards Jongin’s direction. “Is it the—well—hooker you’ve been bringing to your office before? The one in all the rumors?”

 

Jongin opens his mouth and closes it again. He can do nothing but gape and he wants to explain himself but Seulgi raises his palm and says, “Did he say no when you asked?”

 

“Not really,” Jongin admits. He eats a spoonful of ice cream and he winces when the cold goes straight to his skull.

 

Seulgi’s smile drops and it turns more unimpressed. “Did you even ask?”

 

Jongin doesn’t answer but he looks at Seulgi and the woman looks admonishing, a little mad, too. “Is it because of his work? You know he—”

 

“No, Seulgi!” Jongin quickly shots it down. 

 

“Good,” the woman bites back and Jongin feels a swell of pride, even a little, at the kindness.

 

The date turns into something friendly and Seulgi asks questions about Kyungsoo. Jongin happily answers and he tells her all about Kyungsoo, leaving out the more personal details.

 

Once they’re done with the meal, Seulgi says she sees no point in staying for long. Jongin offers to drive her back but she shrugs it off casually, saying she’ll just go get a cab for herself. Jongin doesn’t want to argue and Seulgi is not really the type to fish for anything so he lets her be.

 

He walks Seulgi to the entryway and he says, “Sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

 

“No bad blood,” she shrugs, “I got free meals and movies out of it anyway.”

 

Seulgi gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She adds, whispering, “I hope you finally have the balls to confess and ask your Kyungsoo out, Jongin.”

 

Jongin gives her a grin, saying, “Thanks, Seulgi,” and he goes down on his knees to help her tie her sneakers, enjoying the sound of her laughter and her playfully kicking him on the side so he falls down.

 

It’s a good meal, and Jongin feels like he can really ask Kyungsoo for a date. It’s time for him to be honest to the one person who needs it the most.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Jongin walks into the living room, after Seulgi has left and he has closed the door, he freezes up when he smells the telltale remnants of the aroma of burning incense.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s to Jongin’s complete and utter surprise when he walks into his office and he sees two little piglets, pink and fat, snorting on the floor.

 

“What the fuck,” he mutters to himself. He doesn’t need whatever the hell this prank is when he’s already feeling jittery about talking to Kyungsoo. He’s going to drop the signed documents off before he leaves and drives to Kyungsoo’s home.

 

He walks cautiously to the piglets and he’s surprised to see a collar on each of them. There’s an engraving of Chanyeol on one and a Sehun on another.

 

Jongin is even more sure that this is another horrible and impractical joke but when he sees a bright red paper on his desk with Kyungsoo’s familiar handwriting, dread pools low on his belly. He reads the words and he feels a headache coming on when the letter succinctly says that the two piglets are indeed his idiotic as hell best friends.

 

He removes his suit jacket and he chases the two animals before bundling and carrying them out. Jongin gets a lot of weird looks from the sound of snorts coming from the ball in his arms. He smiles with a tinge of annoyance and shame and Chanyeol and Sehun owe him a new car for this shit.

 

Jongin almost throws the two piglets on the backseat and he hightails it out of the parking garage. The next twenty-five minutes is torturous. The music doesn’t exactly drown the noisy sounds Sehun and Chanyeol are making. It’s worse than their usual yapping. The two are, quite literally, snorting continuously, non-stop. Jongin contemplates on just leaving them on the side of the road.

 

He cuts the driving time to eighteen minutes. Annoyance can do that to a person and he leaves his car’s hazard light on and the piglets, Sehun and Chanyeol, rolling on the leather seats. They definitely own Jongin a new car now—maybe even an upgrade.

 

He walks to Kyungsoo’s property and he’s surprised to see various cleaning supplies flying past and scrubbing what seems to be—raw egg?—from the walls. There is a kid, maybe five to seven year olds, Jongin is not sure, who is doing different cleaning duties. Kyungsoo’s garden looks like it’s been hit by a particularly vengeful storm.

 

Jongin’s heart clenches when he sees the destruction on Kyungsoo’s home.

 

“Kyungsoo,” he calls out. The other man looks surprised but his face harden as he stands up and walks towards Jongin. The gate is opened and he steps inside. The witch’s eyes flash but he doesn’t stay anything. The kid helping also looks up warily and then, before Jongin knows what’s happening, a boy in baby blue overalls runs to him, brandishing his small plastic rake.

 

“Minjoon!” Kyungsoo exclaims and he pries Minjoon from where the boy has tried to claw on Jongin’s trousers with his toy rake. The witch crouches down in front of the kid, saying, “Please apologize to Jongin. That’s bad.”

 

“But, Kyungsoo-hyung! He’s the meanie who ruined your fairy house!”

 

Jongin’s heart completely shatters when Kyungsoo smiles and says, “No, baby. Uncle Jongin is not the meanie who ruined my fairy house. And even if he is, it’s bad to just suddenly hurt other people, okay?”

 

Minjoon looks a little reluctant still, mumbling a “I’m just protecting you.” but Kyungsoo is indulgent and patient. The little boy cracks and he drops his rake before extending his arms to Kyungsoo. Jongin watches as the witch expertly picks up the boy, grunting a bit before bouncing the child in his arms. He’s carrying him so effortlessly and Minjoon nuzzles his nose against Kyungsoo’s in an innocent Eskimo kiss.

 

Jongin falls in love right then and there.

 

“Sorry, Uncle,” Minjoon says.

 

Jongin leans down and he’s aware of how his and Kyungsoo’s position looks like. He’s more than aware of it. He hears Kyungsoo praise the kid with a “Good boy.” and he says after, “It’s no problem. But you have to listen to Uncle Kyungsoo, alright?”

 

Minjoon nods his head enthusiastically and Jongin watches Kyungsoo look at the kid with so much love and caring and hope, _goddamnit,_ that Jongin almost forgets what he’s here for.

 

Kyungsoo, sensing Jongin’s hesitation, rolls his eyes and remarks, “Bathe the two pigs when the clock strikes twelve with mixture of milk, honey, and red roses. That’s it. And tell them not to pull this thing again or I won't hold back.”

 

It sounds a little like a beauty routine to Jongin but he trusts Kyungsoo so he says okay, promising that the other two will never bother him again. If they do, it's Jongin who they have to deal with. 

 

Jongin will be lying if he says he’s not a little bit sad when Kyungsoo turns away with Minjoon without anymore words.

 

He has no choice but to walk away but he’s not fast enough that he doesn’t hear the sound Kyungsoo’s laughter mixed with the tinkling innocent giggles of a child.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s awkward all around. Jongin learns that clothes will not magically appear on Sehun and Chanyeol’s naked bodies. They all have gone red, resolving not to talk about it.

 

Jongin supposes it’s an appropriate punishment and the other two look contrite, even going as far as sending an apology basket to the witch.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s a Saturday, thankfully, and Jongin has woken up and has taken a quick shower. He puts on his best pants and his lucky underwear and he sprays on a decent amount of cologne. He dries his hair and styles it with an expensive mousse and it’s like he’s already going on a date and not asking one. He has his keys on his hands and an address to a flower shop that’s not out of his way to Kyungsoo’s house when, just as he’s about to leave, the doorbells rings incessantly.

 

It’s Kyungsoo.

 

Jongin is, suffice to say, floored.

 

“Hi,” Kyungsoo says. He looks a little shy but his eyes are alight with determination. Jongin notices, giddy, that the witch is dressed nicely and Mongshil even has a tiny bowtie on his neck. It’s adorable really. Kyungsoo’s top matches with his familiar’s bow in color.

 

“Come in, Kyungsoo.” 

 

It’s like déjà vu—like the first time when Jongin has to invite Kyungsoo inside his house. The witch steps in, tentative, and he toes off his sneakers—white and leather and clean, unlike Kyungsoo’s usual black Nike running shoes. 

 

Jongin lets himself hope.

 

“I have something to tell you,” Kyungsoo says. They’re still not sitting down but it seems like the other man cannot wait anymore. “But I have to do something first. Whatever happens, whatever your reaction is, I don’t want you to think differently of me. And I want you to know that I’m releasing you from the contract, Jongin.”

 

Before Jongin can protest, the owl glows and, just like that, it disappears. His finger reaches to trace where the outline used to be a mere second ago and it leaves a bitter taste in Jongin’s mouth.

 

Just like that, his connection to Kyungsoo is over.

 

“You don’t have to fulfill any obligation to me,” Kyungsoo smiles. It’s sad and Jongin does not want to see the other man look like that if he can help it. “I’m sorry for putting you on a tight spot.”

 

“Kyungsoo, you helped my dad get better.”

 

The witch shakes his head and the sad smile takes a hint of wryness. His hold on Mongshil tightens, like a life line. “I took advantage of your vulnerability and desperation. When you walked in with your friend, I thought you’re together and I thought that it’s my chance, maybe I can get a child, finally. I honestly didn’t realize until much later how stupid I am for asking that of you. Chanyeol and Sehun, they kind of woken me up that night, screaming about how stupid I am. I think they were drunk when they egged my house and uprooted my garden. Is it stupid?”

 

“It’s—Kyungsoo, it’s not stupid to have a dream.” Jongin steps closer and he brings Kyungsoo and Mongshil in a big hug. 

 

He hears Kyungsoo sniffle before the man mumbles into the material of Jongin’s designer shirt.

 

“Do you think it’s silly that I want a kid so bad?”

 

“No,” Jongin fervently says, trying to convince Kyungsoo of his thoughts. “It’s not silly to want to have a kid, just as it’s not stupid to want otherwise.”

 

Kyungsoo nods. “I want to have someone who I can pass my magic to. I want to take care of them and love them unconditionally, Jongin. I want to love them the way my parents loved me and I want them to learn to love other people with how much I love them too.”

 

The smile is more genuine now, if a little watery, and Kyungsoo pulls away completely and rocks Mongshil in his arms like one will to a baby when the familiar starts crying. Jongin knows what it means. Kyungsoo’s also crying, even if there’s a smile on his face. Jongin doesn’t need Mongshil for that though. He thinks he’s gotten so good at reading Kyungsoo.

 

“I want you to be happy, Jongin. You’ve given me so much and you’re so nice to me. I want you to enjoy yourself in dating and to never worry about me. I think I can go wait for a few more years before I have a child. Maybe I’ll try this dating thing, too, and find someone. If I cant,” Kyungsoo shrugs but it’s so painful to watch, “I can learn to move on with my baby.”

 

Kyungsoo lifts Mongshil slightly and Jongin takes a deep breath and thinks, _this is it._

 

“No,” he says. Kyungsoo looks a little confused and Jongin has to make him understand. He has to.

 

Jongin takes a step and he leans down. One of his hands holds the back of Kyungsoo’s head and the other is cupping the shorter man’s face. The witch makes a small sound but Jongin sees the man close his eyes and he takes that as his cue. He presses his lips on Kyungsoo’s. It’s so innocent, so chaste, and Jongin feels warmth tingle all over—from his toes to his fingertips to his neck to the top of his head. He presses himself closer to Kyungsoo and the hand on the back of the other man’s neck slides downward to rest on Kyungsoo’s nape.

 

Jongin is about to bite on Kyungsoo’s lower lip when the witch pushes him back.

 

“Jongin,” he whispers, afraid, “how about your girlfriend? Seulgi?”

 

“She’s a friend,” Jongin corrects. “I definitely like you, Kyungsoo. In fact, I really, really, _really_ like you. There’s no Seulgi or Yixing or anyone else.”

 

“I’m not jealous of Yixing,” Kyungsoo grumbles and Jongin smirks as he can clearly see the moment blood rushes to Kyungsoo’s face.

 

“I didn’t say you’re jealous.”

 

Kyungsoo’s cheeks flare a healthy red and he bends down to put Mongshil on the floor. The familiar skitters away happily and Kyungsoo closes the distance between the two of them so their bodies are flushed together. The shorter man links his hand together on Jongin’s neck, just above the first knob of his spine.

 

“Shut up and kiss me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jongin has laughed out loud then and he spends a long time locking lips with the other man, standing like a couple of idiots in the middle of the living room while a dog yaps away in celebration. Kyungsoo has a smile on his face and every time one of them breaks the kiss, Jongin watches as wide eyes turn in to crescents and pink lips, bitten and abused, turns into a perfect heart.

 

His heart threatens to burst out of his ribcage when Kyungsoo suddenly giggles. It’s warm and precious and he falls in love once again, deeper, a little more than the last time.

 

Jongin figures that he doesn’t really mind giving his first-born child to this particular witch after all.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that's 20k words of witch au and kyungsoo being baby-hungry. special shout out to rian for picking the title since she really is at fault here. (there's definitely going to be a short sequel where kyungsoo finally (FINALLY!) gets his baby.)
> 
> leave comments, kudos, or whatever and you can also yell at me on my [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/official_KJD21). i'd honestly love that!

**Author's Note:**

> rian literally left me alone and this is the result. i can't believe there's still a part two to this mess.
> 
>  
> 
> hit me up on [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/official_KJD21)


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